Meddlesome Fools
by film princess
Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.
1. John's Soldiers

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"Sam!" Dean shouted, abandoning his attempts at lighting the wet wood on fire. John watched in horror as Dean flew past him to his youngest son's side. One of the two wendigos, apparently a couple, had thrown Sam harshly into a large tree trunk where he connected with the middle of his back. The boy crumpled to the ground in pain. Dean slid to his side, completely uncaring about his own safety, and tried to get his little brother back on his feet.

"Sammy? You okay? Look at me, bro…"

As John was grappling with the male wendigo, he caught a fast movement out of the corner of his eye. The female wendigo was going after his sons again.

"Dean, look out!" John screamed in warning, his fear increasing his strength, allowing him to breaking free of the male, aim his last flare, and shoot it deep within its chest cavity. The creature screamed in pain as the flames engulfed it.

John made sure it was dead before turning and running towards his children, even though he knew the speed of the female creature greatly surpassed his own. He knew he wasn't going to make it in time. He swooped down to pick up the discarded flare gun that had been knocked from Sam's grip moments earlier.

They thought they were prepared for this hunt. They checked and double checked everything… except the weather report. They knew they were up against two wendigos. They knew the only way to kill them was with fire. They had no idea it was going to downpour only a few minutes after their arrival.

John knew they should have turned back and lived to fight another day, but his drive to hunt overpowered his drive to protect his family, something he regretted with all his heart now.

As he ran, he took aim and pulled the trigger, furious when the gun jammed having been coated in mud and grime. Switching tactics, he grabbed at twigs and sticks, attempting to start a fire with the lighter he always carried in his back pocket. However, nothing was dry enough to catch, adding to his ever increasing fury and fear. He felt as though he were moving in slow motion. It seemed like his children were being pulled further and further away like a horrible nightmare.

As he moved, a terrible narrating voice screamed at him that if anyone got hurt tonight it was entirely his fault, and that Sam didn't want to be here in the first place. Sam had a hard test in the morning that he wanted to study for but John thought it would be good for his boy to get some more practice hunting instead.

Dean was already exceptional at it. He had been begging John to let him come on hunts since he was strong enough to hold a gun and pull the trigger. Now his boys were fifteen and eleven, and they had already acquired more bruises, broken bones, concussions, and scars than the average stunt man or football player.

Every one of these injuries his children had been forced to hide from outsiders such as their teachers and peers. Anyone who wouldn't understand their way of life. His boys were tough, and he was damn proud of them for it, even if he rarely showed it.

A cry of pain brought John back to the present with a harsh thump. Dean had seen the wendigo preparing to attack again and used his own body to protect his little brother's. The result was the creature's long, sharp nails raking across his back. The pain forced him to arch backwards and yell out, but he quickly forced the burning agony aside and curled back over his fallen brother.

Sam was more alert now that he heard his brother's cry and was trying to push him off. He didn't want Dean to get hurt trying to save him. Sam could take care of himself. Dean refused to yield though and pressed Sam down harder into the mud until the boy relented and stopped his struggling.

The next thing Sam knew, Dean was being dragged away from him by the collar of his shirt, kicking and fighting against the wendigo's grip. Apparently, after hearing her mate's death cries, she decided she wanted Dean in return.

"Dean! Dad, help him!" Sam scrambled to his feet, teetering slightly, and broke into a run after his brother. John was by his side seconds later, his son's cries for help forcing his legs to move even faster.

"Let him go, you bitch!" he roared, taking out his knife and swiping at the creature's arm that had a hold on Dean. The beast made a horrible sound of rage, dropped Dean back to the ground, and turned furiously on John. Dean yelped as he hit the ground, the back of his left shoulder colliding with a jagged rock sticking out of the mud. Ever the perfect soldier, he pushed his pain aside in order to focus on the task at hand.

"Dad, give me your lighter!" Dean gasped from the ground. John shot him a questioning look before returning his gaze to the looming wendigo. "Just trust me!" his son shouted. John did as he asked and tossed his lighter to Dean who immediately began tearing off his undershirt and the only dry layer of clothing he had left and set it ablaze.

John dove forward, grabbed the flaming cloth, stuck his knife through it and pinned it to the wendigo's chest as it took one last furious swipe at John's head who ducked just in time.

The creature screamed in pain and defeat as it was consumed by the flames. John grabbed Sam's elbow and Dean's booted foot and dragged them away from the raging fire.

Once they were a safe distance away, Sam and John crouched down on either side of Dean to make sure he was okay.

"Son? You alright?"

"Yeah, dad. Just give me a sec." Dean panted harshly, trying to get his breathing back under control. Now that the danger was gone, the aches and pains in his body were making themselves known.

"That was pretty quick thinkin' there, kiddo. Settin' your shirt on fire?" His dad beamed down at him. Dean gave him a half-hearted smirk back.

"I got sick of waitin' for you to come up with somethin' better." John patted his son on the chest and felt the tremors from the adrenaline and the cold coursing through Dean. He also noticed his boy's lips were turning a slight shade of blue. "Come on, let's get you two warmed up. You're both soaked to the bone."

"Look who's talkin', gramps," Dean groaned as he picked his head up a few inches and the world around him spun.

"Easy, Dean." John placed his strong hand on Dean's shoulder and was about to help lever him into a sitting position when Dean cried out and attempted to break away from his grip. "Whoa! Hey, what's wrong?"

Sam's worried eyes appeared just over Dean's face and, being the big brother, instantly had to calm his fears. "I'm okay, Sammy. Just a few scratches." Dean shivered violently as the rain pounded down over his body, each drop on his bare skin feeling like needle pricks.

John, afraid to cause his son any more pain, held out a hand for Dean to grab onto, then pulled him carefully to his feet. With Sam protected under his other arm, he guided his children to the safety of the Impala.

When they reached the motel, medical John took over. It was time to assess the damage.

"Dean, come here."

"Yes, sir?"

"Let's take a look at that shoulder."

"I'm fine, dad. Take care of Sammy first."

"I've _been _keeping an eye on Sam and he's gonna be fine. I'll check him in a minute. You first. I can see the blood on your clothes from here. Let's go. Shirt off."

Grumbling, he did as he was told, pausing and hissing on occasion when the shirt pulled at his wounds. John called to him as he got the first aid kit out.

"Sit on the bed, Dean."

Dean sat and Sam sat next to him, anxious to make sure his brother was really okay. Being the center of attention never sat well with Dean unless it was in a room full of girls. This scrutiny was downright embarrassing.

When Sam glanced at his back, he drew in a sharp breath of air, making Dean roll his eyes.

"It's not as bad as it looks, Sam. I told you, I'm okay."

"Dean, those scratches are really deep… And what happened to your shoulder?"

"Fell on a rock. No biggie."

When John walked towards the bed with the kit, Dean shot him a pleading look that his father recognized immediately. Sam was being too clingy and making Dean uncomfortable. Plus, Dean didn't want his little brother to witness the patch job he was going to need.

"Sam, why don't you go take a shower and get some dry clothes on. You're going to catch pneumonia sittin' around like that."

"But daaaaddddd… I want to stay with Dean…"

Dean dropped his head into his hands in frustration. He loved his brother, but the boy was a bit overbearing sometimes. Dean had been putting on a front for his family since the moment he was hurt. Yeah, his body stung like hell right now, but Sammy didn't need to know that. He wanted his brother out of the room so he could relax and drop the act a bit.

"_Now_, Sammy. Dean'll be fine, and you'll see him when you get out."

"Fine…"

Sam slunked off the bed, determined to make it known that he was not pleased with this plan.

As he gathered up his clothes to head into the bathroom, John gently gripped his elbow and turned him.

"Hang on, Squirt. How many fingers am I holdin' up?"

"Three, dad…" Sam rolled his eyes.

"You know the drill, son. How old are you?"

"Eleven. And Dean is fifteen, our last hunt was a black dog in Michigan, and yes I can see straight. Satisfied?"

"Just about. Walk a straight line to the bathroom door for me."

Sam did and turned back waiting for his dad's approval.

"Alright. Go ahead. But if you start to feel dizzy…"

"Shut off the water, sit down, and put my head between my legs, and call for you. Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

"Good. Be careful."

He was answered by the bathroom door shutting. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Dean who was craning his neck, trying to see the damage done to his back.

"You tryin' out for _Exorsist _or impersonating an owl?"

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious."

"Why don't you let me do the lookin' before you pull somethin'?"

"Knock yourself out."

Dean sat perfectly still as his father carefully prodded the deep scratches in his lower back and only winced once or twice if John pressed a little too hard. Then he moved up to Dean's shoulder, grimacing as he saw bits of earth still embedded in the gash and a painful looking bruise just about covering his entire shoulder blade surrounding it.

"Jeez, Dean. Did you hit a rock or a house?"

"A house in the shape of a rock."

"Thought so. I'm gonna need to clean that one out and these scratches should have a couple stitches to be safe. The gash on your shoulder should be okay with some butterfly bandages."

Dean nodded. He had figured all that out by himself, just according to the pain he was feeling.

"Alright. Slide back and lay down flat on the mattress. Look to the right." John knew pain was mainly mind over matter, and not looking at the wounds tended to ease the patient, so he made sure Dean was looking in the opposite direction. He pushed the pillows to the floor and helped Dean situate himself so that he had the best access to his wounds and decent lighting.

He poured some peroxide onto a cotton swab and didn't bother warning Dean it was going to sting like hell. Dean aught to know that by now. John started cleaning around Dean's shoulder wound, soaking up the drying blood so he could see it better. Dean tensed at the pressure on his painful bruise, but kept his mouth shut.

John took out his tweezers and began plucking out all the small pieces of rock that chipped off when Dean's shoulder blade collided with it. When he felt Dean jerk beneath his hands at a particularly deep prod, he tried to sooth his son without giving in to the fatherly impulses. If he did, he wouldn't be able to stitch his son back together later. He had to stay focused in military mode.

"Easy, kiddo. Breathe through it. Try to relax."

Slowly, he felt Dean's muscles start to uncoil again as Dean forced the pain away.

"Atta boy. Focus on something else. I'm almost done."

When he pulled the last fragment free of his son, he doused the wound with more peroxide to flush it out. Dean fisted the sheets and a small yelp escaped his lips before he could clamp down on it.

John rubbed soothing circles on Dean's upper back and massaged his neck to help ease the increased tension in his muscles as the liquid frothed and did its job. When Dean's body refused to relax, he leaned down and gently blew on the bubbling fluid, helping diminish the stinging.

The small relief and his exhaustion was finally winning over and Dean slowly relaxed, sinking into the sheets. John patted his uninjured shoulder before holding the two jagged edges of the cut together and bandaging them. Lastly, he placed a large square of gauze over the wound and taped it down securely. One problem taken care of…

John moved down a few inches so he was sitting by Dean's knees, making it easier to reach his lower back. As he threaded the needle, Sam chose that very moment to rush back out of the bathroom, looking like he had only taken the time to half dry himself in his anxiousness to get back to his brother. He froze a few steps into the room, wide eyes locked on the needle in his father's hand. Both boys hated needles, but while Dean put up a tough façade and pretended it didn't bother him, Sam was known to freak out a little.

John looked up from the threaded needle and his eyes met his youngest's panicked ones. "Sammy…"

"D-dad? Is it really that bad? Do you have to…?"

"Yeah, Sammy, it's best I do. It'll help him heal faster."

"But dad, Dean hates…"

"It's fine, Sammy. I only need a couple," Dean tried to reassure both his brother and himself.

"Sam, why don't you take a walk or turn the TV on or somethin'…" his dad tried.

"No, I want to be with Dean! You said I could be when I got out of the shower!"

"Promise you won't throw up this time, Sam?" Dean butted in. Sam shook his head in the affirmative.

John relented. "Fine. Get over here and make yourself useful then."

Sam walked timidly to Dean's right side so he could see his face, and though Dean was a master at hiding his emotions, Sam was just as skilled at finding them deep within his brother's eyes. Dean was scared. He sat beside his brother, uncurled his fingers from the death grip they had on the sheets, and entwined their fingers together.

John took out his lighter and sterilized the needle, then quickly soaked the thread, as well as his hands, in alcohol. When everything was prepared, he carefully slid the needle through his son's skin, hooked it upward, and captured the other side, drawing them together.

Dean's grip on Sam's hand tightened immeasurably, but Sam was too focused on the needle to complain. He was already a slight greenish tint. John spoke words of comfort to both his boys as he continued, one neat stitch right after the other until he reached the end of the deep scratch, tied it off, and moved to the second one. As he was halfway done with the third and last scratch, Dean's strength betrayed him and he let the pleasant darkness consume him.

John could easily feel the change in his child as he relaxed bonelessly against the mattress, ignorant of the pain he should be feeling. If Sam wasn't gripping Dean's hand so hard, his arm would have fallen limply to the bed.

"Dad? What's wrong with him?" Sam's concern was evident in his voice. John quickly checked Dean's pulse and lifted his eyelids to be sure.

"He just passed out, Sam. He'll be fine. This way, he won't feel it anymore."

"But is he going to wake up again?"

"Of course he will."

"When?"

"I don't know yet, kiddo. Depends on how long his body needs to recover."

"I hope he recovers fast."

"Me too, son. Me too."

John finished tying off the last stitch, spread plenty of antibiotic ointment over the cuts, then taped more gauze over them. Then he stood and went into the bathroom to wash Dean's blood from his hands. When he came back out it was to find his youngest son curled up on the bed next to his brother's prone form, still clutching his hand.

John sighed and walked to Sam's side of the bed. "Let's take a look at your head before you fall asleep."

Sam refused to leave the bed, but sat up a few inches and tilted his head down so John could get a good look. His father brushed his fingers over the boy's scalp until he found a good-sized lump at the base of his skull. Sam whimpered and pulled away, refusing to let John touch him again until he apologized and promised he wouldn't do it again.

John swore he'd be more careful and held in the small chuckle that tried to escape at Sam's pure innocence. He was amazed that the boy had retained it even after all the hunts he'd been dragged to, and all the times he had to patch his wounded family back up again. Once John was satisfied that Sam wasn't bleeding, he got a towel full of ice and held it behind Sam's head as he laid back down with his brother. John got a second towel of ice and placed it gently on Dean's shoulder to help with the bruising and stiffness as well as the swelling of the joint.

Dean was still soaked, having been unable to take a shower like Sam had, so John walked quietly back over to the boys' bed, reached underneath Dean and undid his belt and jeans, then tugged them off and dropped them in a sloshing heap next to the bed. He took a cursory glance at the boy's legs, making sure he didn't miss any other injuries. Leaving Dean's boxers intact, John took the quilt and blanket from his own bed and draped them over his boys.

As he shut the lights off, he whispered goodnight to his children, his soldiers, then crawled under his own sheets and drifted off as well.

TBC

What do you think so far?


	2. A Pitying Glance

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

The next day, John woke his boys up and checked over their injuries. Satisfied there were no infections or concussions, he allowed them to get out of bed and get breakfast. Dean chose to jump right in the shower, feeling grimy from the previous night's events. John left the bandages off, deciding he would put the antibiotic cream and clean bandages on when Dean got out. Sam sat at the table and poured himself some Lucky Charms.

Dean felt like total crap. He'd give anything to curl back up in his bed and stay there for the next week while his body healed itself, but he knew that wasn't an option. Sam would want to go back to school, today no doubt, because he loved it so much. And Dean, being the great big brother he was, would be the one to watch over him during those six, painstakingly long hours that he hated. School was never really his thing. He was a very smart kid which few people gave him enough credit for, but he'd rather be out hunting. How important could geometry be after all? He doubted it could stopped an attacking werewolf.

He took a quick shower because the water beating down on his back stung, then hopped out and got dressed, leaving only his shirt off. As he exited the bathroom, he found his father sitting on his bed with the first aid kit, waiting for him. He walked over and sat beside him.

"You sure you're up for school today, kiddo? These scratches look pretty tender, not to mention your shoulder."

"Yeah, dad. I'll be fine. Someone's gotta keep an eye on the little one after all."

"I'm not little anymore, Dean! I'm almost as tall as you now!" Sam huffed back from the table before shoving another bite into his mouth.

John and Dean laughed at his indignation, but both had to admit that it was true. Sam was catching up to his big brother's height and John was sure that within no time, he'd skyrocket past him. Of course, he'd never tell Dean that…

When John was finished bandaging his wounds again, Dean went to his duffle to pull out a shirt for the day. He took care to wear a dark short sleeve shirt that would hide the bruising and for extra security, a bulky sweatshirt to mask the bandages. Sam had also opted for a dark t-shirt to shield the heavy bruising running down the length of his spine from where he hit the tree.

With his father's help, he pulled the added clothing on, then grabbed poptarts from the cupboard.

"Ready ta go, dude?"

Sam finished drinking his milk and jumped up from the table, grabbing his book bag. "Yep." Sam hissed and almost dropped his bag as it made contact with the bruising on his spine. Before it hit the ground, Dean had grabbed it with his good arm and slung it carefully over his shoulder, keeping it high enough to avoid the scratches at the base of his back.

"I've got it, Sammy. Lead the way."

"But what about your bag?"

"Like I pay attention in class anyway. I don't need my books. Let's get goin' before we miss the bus."

"Want me to drive you guys in today?" John offered, knowing the bouncing of the bus was going to wreak havoc on Dean's back. He tried not to smile at Dean's small sigh of relief.

"I'd take the Impala over the damn bus any day," he grinned at his father. Sam just shrugged and headed outside to the car.

"Dean, hang on a sec. Take these before we go." John tossed his son a bottle of pain killers. Dean glanced at the label: a prescription for Burt Afframian.

"Thanks." He slipped them into his baggy jeans pocket for easy access during the day.

With that, the Winchesters boarded the metallicar and took off for their school of the month. This had been the longest they had stayed in one place. It was a bit of a risk, but John wanted the boys to have at least _some_ stability in their lives, so whenever he could manage to stay put for a while, he did. He was glad Sam had even managed to make a few good friends, and Dean, as always had the girls hanging off of him constantly and the jocks despised him for it. John wasn't worried about him though. Dean could take care of himself. He always had.

John dropped them off, then headed to the garage where he'd been working since they made the decision to stay and needed real cash to avoid being caught for credit card fraud.

The moment the boys left the vehicle, they were in actor mode. They pretended to be normal kids who had normal childhoods and a normal father. Any pain, either physical or mental, was pushed away and they "assimilated". No one was any the wiser, or at least, that's what they thought.

Dean was a junior in high school, and Sam, due to his intelligence and eagerness to learn, had been pushed up two grades, therefore being a freshman in the same school as his brother.

Though Dean teased him and occasionally complained about his little brother constantly tagging along, internally he was more than thrilled that he could now watch out for his brother; watch him make friends, and protect him if he made enemies. That was his job as big brother.

Dean walked Sam to his locker and gave him his book bag back.

"Thanks, Dean."

"No sweat, kiddo. I'll catch you at lunch, okay?"

"Kay."

Dean only made it two steps before he was flocked by the girls that waited for him each morning to walk him to class. He instantly threw on a fake smile and Sam watched his brother perform. He noticed how disappointed the girls were when his brother didn't wrap his arms around their shoulders. Only Sam knew the reason why. He probably couldn't lift his shoulder far if he tried.

Sam grabbed the books he needed and headed to his precal class. He did love the math, but he was more anxious to get to his literature class where his friends, Jess and Luke, would be waiting for him.

As Dean shook off his escort at the door of his physics classroom, he slumped into his chair, prepared to sleep through his lab as always. His teacher never complained because Dean had the highest grade in the class. He excelled at both physics and chemistry, having had a lot of practice using them in his line of work. _If only there was an artillery class…_

What seemed like ages later for both boys, the bell finally rung and they moved onto their second classes of the day. While Sam was excited to meet up with his buddies, Dean wished he was old enough to drive so he could slip out the side door and take a ride. Of course, he'd be back in time to meet Sam for lunch like he promised.

Sam said a passing good morning to his teacher, Mrs. Prescott, and as always ignored the subtle pity and concern in her voice and body language. He never understood why it was there, but he assumed she might have had Dean as a student before. A lot of teachers cringed when they read Sam's last name and made the connection. His brother was a hard kid to handle in the best of times.

He took up his seat in the back, smiling broadly as his two best friends high-fived a greeting to him.

"'Sup, my man?" Jess drawled. He reminded Sam a lot of Dean. Maybe that's why he was drawn to him within the first few days of school here.

"Nothin', you?"

"Nada."

"You alright, dude? You're lookin' kinda pale…" Luke butted in. Sam quickly shook him off.

"Nah, I'm fine. Just tired. Long night studying for a social studies test today."

The other boys groaned their understanding. Their conversation was brought to an end as Mrs. Prescott began class.

Dean's back and shoulder were already starting to ache again, regardless of the pills he took before he got out of the Impala. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, all the way back in his Latin course. Again, no need to stay awake through this one.

Just as he was starting to drift off, he heard his teacher call his name and snapped back up.

"Sorry, what?"

The teacher sighed, not afraid to show his annoyance at having to repeat himself. "I asked, Mr. Winchester, if you could please read the next paragraph."

"Oh, sorry teach. Don't have my book today."

"What a shocking new development. And what is your excuse this time? Your little brother ate it? Your dog's claw marks made it impossible to read? Or was it just too heavy to carry today?"

Dean really hated this guy.

"All of the above? Oh, and my dad had to borrow it for a project of his."

Okay, so that last part was actually true, but his teacher never believed him anyway. Plus, it probably was too heavy for his shoulder to handle today anyway.

"I'm sure he'll find it rivitting. Ms. Robinson, would you care to save Mr. Winchester's butt here and read for him?"

"Sure thing," Emily responded, shooting Dean an appraising glance, clearly telling him she'd save his butt any day. Dean smirked back, but not with the usual cocky attitude that would accompany it on a normal day. He was in too much pain to flirt.

Just as the bell rang again, Sam stood and grabbed his books, preparing to head to his social test. The boys wished him good luck, then Jess clapped him on the back, striking his bruise with great force. Sam hadn't been expecting it, so he couldn't hide the painful wince that crossed his face. Luckily, he bit down on his bottom lip to hold in the yelp that almost burst from him. His back was on fire now.

Unfortunately, his recovery wasn't fast enough. The boys looked worriedly at him, and Mrs. Prescott called his name.

"Sam, could you please stay a few extra minutes? I need to speak with you. Jess, Luke… you may go."

"You alright, Sam?" Jess asked, conspiratorially.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Go on, guys."

"Catch ya later."

Sam looked up, and his eyes locked with those pitying eyes once more. This couldn't be good…

TBC

Like the Gilmore Girls reference? Jess and Luke… I couldn't resist. What do you think so far?


	3. Deep Shit

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"Did I do something wrong, Mrs. Prescott?"

"Of course not, Sam. I just wanted to introduce you to someone."

"Really? Who?"

"Could you follow me, please?"

"Uh, sure… But my next class… I have a test…"

"Don't worry about that. I'll speak with your teacher and have it rescheduled."

"Oh, okay…"

Sam followed his teacher but stopped short when he realized where he was being taken: The guidance office.

"Come now, Sam. It won't be that bad." She backtracked to his side, took hold of his shoulders gently, and guided him into the office. "Just wait in here, and Mrs. Noble will be in to talk to you in a moment."

"What for?"

She just smiled pityingly again and walked away. Sam's hands were sweating now. Something was wrong, and he was pretty sure it involved him or his family. Was Dean hurt? Did something happen to his father?

He could hear his teacher talking to someone just outside of the room. He only caught certain words like back, abuse, brother, and father. Nope… definitely not good.

The guidance counselor walked in a few moments later, gently shutting the door behind herself and making Sam feel caged and on edge. He skirted around the office, keeping his back to the wall until the woman turned back to him and asked him to take a seat.

"Sam, would you mind explaining to me what happened to your back?" Wow. Direct and to the point. No skating the issue with this lady.

"Wha-what do you mean? There's… There's nothin' wrong with my back," he stuttered, never a fan of lying to people. Dean was always better at it. He wished his brother was here now.

"Hunny, your teacher, Mrs. Prescott, saw you react in pain when a friend of yours touched your back, and she has expressed concerns about you before. She said she has noticed you in pain a lot lately… One day it was your ankle, a few days later and you were wearing long-sleeved shirts when it was eighty-five degrees outside, and now your back… So I'm going to ask you again, what happened, Sam? You're safe here. Nothing you tell me leaves this room."

He remembered each injury very well. His ankle had been a lasting effect from the hunt against the black dog before they arrived in this town. It had clawed cruelly into his shin, tripping him as he ran and straining his ankle. The long-sleeved shirt was due to a particularly vigorous training session with his brother who had pinned him to the ground and accidentally left a hand-shaped bruise on his arm for which he apologized profusely all through the next week. He hadn't realized he had been so obvious about them in Prescott's class. No one else had said anything before.

Sam shook his head vehemently, trying to convince her that he was okay. He was terrified she would call his dad who would be disappointed that he couldn't hide his injuries as well as the rest of his family could, or even worse, call child services on him. He began to nervously rattle off excuses to get her to let him leave.

"I'm alright, honest. It barely hurts anymore. It was just an accident. Besides, Dean was way worse off…" Before the words had fully left his mouth, Sam's eyes widened in shock and he clapped both hands over his mouth. He knew he wasn't supposed to say that. He wasn't supposed to ever mention their injuries received while "on the job".

"Dean? I'm assuming you're referring to your brother? What do you mean Dean was worse off?" Sam began to panic. Now he was going to get his brother in trouble too.

"Nothin'! Forget I said anything. I must just be really tired or something…"

"Sam, please tell me what happened. If someone is hurting you or your brother, we can get you help."

"No one is hurting us! It was just an accident! I tripped and fell down the stairs at my house yesterday."

"And… what? Your brother did the same thing?"

"What? Oh, no… He… uh… ran to the bottom and tried to catch me. I knocked him backwards into the glass-covered coffee table and it shattered."

"Why don't we get your brother down here and we can all have a talk? Unless you don't want him here for some reason…?"

Sam instantly knew what she was getting at and it infuriated him. Dean would never lay a hand on Sam unless it was to help or protect him. To make sure she understood this, he shook his head no and said, "I've got no problem with him being here."

"Alright then. Sam, you just wait right here and I'll have the front desk call him down, okay?"

Sam could only nod. He felt tears welling in his eyes and his throat was closing up. Dean was going to be pissed, but Sam didn't know yet if it would be directed towards himself or this meddling woman.

Dean, completely unaware of his brother's situation, was pretending to take notes in his English class, but was actually doodling goofy pictures of his teacher. He was only half listening to the room's loudspeaker as it broke into his teacher's ramblings.

"Excuse me, Mr. Anderson?"

"Yes?"

"Could you please send Dean Winchester to the guidance office?" _Oh come on! What now?!_

"He's on his way."

"Thank you."

"Dean, off you go."

_Great… What did I do this time?_

Dean slid carefully out of his chair and headed towards the office, running the past few days through his head to find out what he might be in trouble for. He knocked on the main office door and stuck his head in. The secretary looked up and beckoned him in.

"Hi, uh… You called… _Sammy_?" Dean noticed his brother sitting in one of the guidance rooms off to his left and sent him a questioning look. The fear in his brother's eyes made his hackles rise and set him on alert.

"Ah! There you are, Dean. Come on in, Sweetie."

"What the hell is goin' on here? What are you doin' with my brother?" he demanded standing directly behind his brother's chair with a hand on his shoulder, not caring at all about his attitude towards the counselor. She didn't seem to care about his words, however, and instead was raking her eyes over his heavily clothed body, clearly scanning for any obvious injuries. Dean felt very insecure under her eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly portraying defiance.

"A teacher of Sam's has expressed concerns about him and his health."

"His health?" Sam could hear the concern in his brother's voice and tried to twist around to look him in the eye and explain that he was fine, but his back refused to twist that far and he was forced to hold in a grunt and stop his motions. Dean clamped a hand back onto his shoulder for stability and helped ease him back to facing front, never once breaking eye contact with the woman in front of him, clearly daring her to say another word.

"As you no doubt can clearly see, Sam seems to be in a good deal of pain. Do you have any idea what caused it?"

"I…"

"And I have also been informed that you may have injuries of your own."

"Okay, I can…"

"I don't want lies, Mr. Winchester. I've been told you are very good at concocting stories when needed, but if you are covering for someone, say your father… then now is the time to come clean."

"Don't you dare talk about my father like that! You know nothing about him!" Sam felt Dean's grip increase on his shoulder, but not enough to hurt. In fact, he was comforted by it, but he was afraid that if she said anything bad about their dad, he would have to try and stop his brother from throttling her.

She looked at them both with the same pity Sam saw in his teacher's eyes. Only then did she glimpse the bottle-shaped protrusion in Dean's jeans pocket.

"Dean, may I see that bottle in your pocket please?"

Not wanting to start something in front of his brother, he did as he was told and handed the bottle over, an excuse forming in his head as he moved.

"Pain killers? Who is this Burt Affromian?"

"My uncle."

"And why do you have them?"

"I'm supposed to drop them off at his house on the way home. He has a busted leg so I told him I'd pick up his pills for him."

Clearly, she was not convinced.

"I see… Sam, would you come with me for a moment?"

"He's not going anywhere alone with you," Dean threatened, walking around the chair to stand in front of his little brother.

"Hon, I can understand your protective nature towards your younger sibling, but if you really want to help him, just let him come with me for a few moments. It won't take long, I swear. If you make this more difficult than it has to be, I'll be forced to call in backup."

"Backup?" Dean sounded worried now, increasing Sam's fear as well.

"Yes. Child services. If you don't want that to happen, let me speak with Sam alone for a few minutes."

The room went silent as Dean thought over his options. After a few seconds, Sam looked to Dean for his answer who had no choice but to nod and step aside.

Swallowing harshly, Sam stood and followed the counselor into another room that upon further inspection appeared to be a small nurse's office. He looked questioningly at her as she followed him in and closed the door behind them.

"Sam, I want to see your back."

Sam paled to the point of feeling lightheaded. He swayed slightly but managed to stay upright.

"Why?"

"Because I need to make an assessment. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you'll be back with your brother."

Having seen so many abused children as a counselor, she had returned to college for medical classes, aiding her ability to decide whether a mark was made by child's play or a drunken father with a belt. It also gave her the right to examine injured children without the possibility of a lawsuit.

Sam stared at the ground, unable to meet her eyes anymore, and carefully slipped his shirt off, crossing his arms in front of himself for warmth and a little dignity. He kept his back to the wall.

"Now turn around, hunny. I promise I won't hurt you."

Wanting to get back to Dean, he did as he was told and faced towards the wall. He cringed when he felt her cold hands running along the length of his spine checking for damage. The skin was black and blue and inflamed in some places, but there didn't seem to be anything permanent.

"Can you hop up on the cot for me?"

Again, Sam did as he was told.

"Lie down on your stomach, hun. Raise your arms and relax your hands under your head."

Sam shivered as her cold hands once again skirted over his back. She pressed down in certain areas, checking for internal damage and broken bones. All she found was the bump on the back of his head.

She had him sit back up and used a pen light to check for a concussion. Finding none, she asked her last question.

"Alright. Is there any place else that hurts?"

Sam, keeping his eyes to the ground, shook his head no. Another perk of the job was being able to read people. She knew he wasn't lying to her about this, unlike his protective brother who seemed to do nothing but.

"Then you can put your shirt back on. This is your last chance to come clean, Sam. Did someone do this to you?" She spoke each word slowly and carefully as he pulled his shirt back on.

"My answer is still no. It's the truth! I fell down the stairs!"

"And your brother will be able to back up this story?"

_Oh shit…_ "Of course, I told you he was the one who tried to help me."

"We'll find out in a minute. Now, if you'll follow me to the other office, I'll get Dean checked out and then I want to talk to you both."

She walked Sam briskly passed the office Dean was waiting in, but to Sam's dismay, the door was shut. Sam wanted to warn his brother not to go with her because Dean had many more years worth of scars and injuries than Sam did. If she saw them, she would be on the phone with child's services in seconds. When they reached the furthest office from the door, she sat him down.

"Wait right here, and I'll be back with your brother in a few minutes. Just sit tight." She left, closing the door behind her. He groaned and dropped his head in his hands. They were in deep shit now.

TBC

I don't know much about child services or how far a counselor can go when it comes to things like exams, but I'm using poetic license! I figured if she also had some medical training, it would be a bit more believable. I'm just winging it! How am I doing so far? Dean's up next…


	4. Proof of Pain

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

As the counselor entered the first office, she found Dean pacing back and forth across the carpet. The moment he caught sight of her he stopped dead in his tracks and locked eyes with hers, trying to read her thoughts and emotions.

Her heart went out to these boys and the strength they seemed to have, no doubt bred from countless years of protecting themselves from a greater evil. Unfortunately, she had no idea how true that was. In her mind, the greater evil was no doubt John Winchester himself. She forced a smile on her face as she addressed Dean once again.

"Okay, Dean, your turn."

"My turn for what? Where's Sammy?"

"He's waiting a few offices down. You'll be able to see him in a moment, but I need you to come with me first."

"Go with you were?" She was surprised at the wariness and distrust he was conveying. Children his age didn't tend to get so defensive. Clearly, he had something to hide and was afraid she would discover it, which was exactly what she planned to do.

"Follow me and you'll see." She gently gripped his elbow and led him into the same small nurse's office she had brought Sam in moments ago and closed the heavy door behind them. Dean tensed immediately, scanning the room for answers as to why he was brought here, as well as for any immediate threats.

"Dean, I would like you to do something for me." Dean turned his gaze back onto her questioningly.

"Such as?"

"I would like you to remove your sweatshirt for a moment."

"What the hell for?"

"I have reason to believe you and your brother are being abused. It is my duty as a guidance counselor to justify the claims and get you boys help if necessary."

"Look lady, no one is abusing us. Believe me, if anyone touched a hair on my little brother's head, they wouldn't live long to talk about it. And I can hold my own."

She sighed in pity for this boy before her that seemed to be carrying a lot of baggage and emotional turmoil. Any suspicions that he was the one responsible for his brother's injuries went right out the window when she saw how protective he was of Sam. The younger brother's need to be by Dean's side and the way he relaxed when Dean placed a comforting hand on his shoulder also didn't go unnoticed by the counselor. It was her job to catch these subtle glimpses into the children's lives.

The question was why, or better yet, _who_ was the one responsible for making Dean believe he had to be his brother's guardian. Who was he protecting him from? Wasn't that the duty of the mother and father? She was getting the sense that these boys had been looking out for each other for years. That was a lot of responsibility to put on a child's shoulders.

"If you don't have any injuries, then you won't have any problem proving that, will you?"

Dean felt as though he had been backed into a corner, and he was never a fan of that. He glared at her, making sure she understood that he was not afraid of her. She acknowledged his minor form of communicating, then ignored it and pressed on.

"It'll just take a second, Dean. If you are uncomfortable, I can ask the school nurse to examine you instead."

"No! You don't have the right to do this!"

"I assure you, I do, Mr. Winchester. There is plenty of evidence for reasonable suspicion and your brother himself let slip that you were hurt. Now please do as I asked and I'll get you right back to your little brother."

Frustrated, but wanting to get back to Sam, Dean finally relented and carefully pulled the heavy sweatshirt over his head, moving slowly so as not to jostle his wounded shoulder any more than necessary. He moved his arms out to his sides as much as he could manage as if to say, '_There you go… See? Nothing wrong. Now what?_'

She walked up to him and took him gently by his right wrist. She peered closely at his arm, ignoring the confused look he was giving her. She was looking for any bruises or marks that would suggest abuse- possibly finger or hand-shaped bruises, lacerations from a belt or a glass bottle, or even scratches that were not of an animal nature.

She did find a lot of questionable scars littering his skin, but nothing that looked recent enough to get a court order. When she was done with that arm, she released it and checked his left arm as well.

As she lifted it for better lighting purposes, he tensed and his arm twitched in her hands. Her eyes locked onto his and she could see the pain buried deep within them. Never before had she seen such depth and strength in a child his age. It was clearly taking a lot of willpower to keep the pain hidden behind his internal walls. As she released his arm, she watched closely as he winced while lowering it slowly back to his side. There was no doubt in her mind that the pain was coming from his left shoulder.

"Dean, please remove your shirt now for me."

He pulled away until his back was against one of the bare walls. "No."

"Sweetie, I'm trying to help you here. Please let me."

"I don't need your help! _We _don't need your help! My family is perfectly fine without you messin' with it!"

"I was afraid it would come to this." She shook her head sadly and walked to the phone suspended on the wall. After three rings, the receiver picked up.

"Hello, Nurse Roderick? This is Helen from the guidance department. Could you please come down to my office for a moment? I have a student here that may need your assistance. I'll explain when you get here. Thank you."

Sure she had some medical background, but she didn't have a medical degree or anything. If the injuries were out of her league, she knew to call for backup.

She hung up and turned back to Dean who was glaring openly at her now with a deep hatred in his eyes.

"Why can't you just leave us alone?" he demanded.

"Because, Dean, regardless of what you may believe, I am not the enemy, and you do not deserve to be hurt. You do not deserve having to become an adult at such a young, or to be a parent to your brother, and you certainly don't have to go through it all alone. I understand that you are scared, but I'm here to help, and I promise you that if you tell me what is going on, I'll be able to protect you and Sam."

"I'm _not _scared. You don't know what you're talkin' about, lady."

"I've had a lot of experience in this area, Sweetie. Trust me. I've seen my fair share."

"No. You haven't!" Dean doubted she had any inkling that there was truly evil in this world. "It's not what you think."

"Then explain it to me."

"I can't do that."

"Who's stopping you, Dean?"

He squared his shoulders and locked eyes with hers once again. "_I_ am. It's none of your business. Now why don't you help someone who wants it?"

Before she could answer, there was a loud knock on the door. Dean jumped, breaking eye contact and snapping them onto the door. She watched as he shifted slightly to accommodate this newcomer into his view and still keep his back to the wall. It was a very strategic move, practically military she noted. That would also explain the resistance to interrogation as well. _Interesting…_

"I'm going to be right outside this door, Dean, so don't try anything. I'll be right back." She stepped out, closing the door behind her and leaving a frantic Dean trying to find an alternate escape route. Finding none, he picked up the phone to warn his dad and see if there was anyone who could come and pick them up _now_ before things got really out of hand.

Before he had a chance to punch in the fifth button, the door swung open again and two pitying faces stared back at him. Apparently, the counselor had filled the nurse in on her suspicions. Resignedly, he hung the phone back up again.

"Who were you calling, Dean?" the counselor asked softly.

"I was just prank calling the principal," he lied easily. The nurse stepped forward before the counselor, Helen, could respond, hand extended in greeting.

"Hello, Dean. I'm Nurse…"

"Roderick. I heard." Dean did not shake her hand. She didn't seem phased by this though. Instead, she got right to business, picking up where the counselor had left off.

"I would like to examine your shoulder, Dean, if that's alright with you."

"Well it's not alright with me. Thanks for askin'. Now if you don't mind, I'm goin' to get my brother and we're leavin'."

Helen advanced towards him again, taking care to stand between him and the door, halting his retreat. She noted his reaction to being caged. _No doubt one of the few fears the boy has…Clearly, he's been cornered before, but by whom, and why?_

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, son. You either need to let the nurse here take a look at you, or we're going to have to call the cops and child services and you can explain to them who is responsible."

Dean was _way_ beyond pissed now, but he couldn't have her calling the cops. He was literally backed into a corner, surrounded by the women who were desperate to help him and oblivious to the fact they were just making everything worse.

If he couldn't stop her from examining him, he could at least invent a lie to convince the women that his injuries were _not_ made by way of abuse, but rather just horsing around or a simple accident.

The only problem was, Sam had clearly already talked to Helen, and no doubt made up a story of his own. If Dean didn't match it, he would just be making things worse for himself and his brother. But he had to say something. That much was plain. Helen tutted when he made no move to relent and picked up the phone to dial child services. Dean had to intervene and quickly.

"Wait! Alright! Check my shoulder if you want, but there is no evidence for abuse! And _that_ is because no one has ever abused me, _or_ my brother for that matter. He fell down the stairs last night, I heard him and ran to stop his descent, then he jackknifed at the bottom and sent us into the coffee table. _That's _how I busted my shoulder."

Good thing he knew his brother really well. Sam always came up with the simplest excuses for injuries, and this one seemed a likely fit. He knew he had struck gold when the nurse turned a questioning glance on Helen, but then she seemed to decide they must have worked that lie out together before coming to school, or even worse, had had to use the lie before for previous injuries.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, huh?" the nurse asked and reached out to take hold of his upper arm, dragging him away from the wall and into the center of the floor. Dean winced as his shoulder was tugged and he was forced to follow where she led.

The nurse stood in front of him to gauge his facial responses to her touch, then began applying pressure to different places around his shoulder. He remained stoic until she pushed rather harshly on the bandage John had taped on that morning. He gasped and jerked away.

"Did you go to the hospital for that patch job?" she inquired, having felt the padding of a bandage.

"Yeah. When my dad saw us he took us straight away."

"Which hospital did you go to?"

_Shit… _"Uh… I dunno! I wasn't really paying attention..."

"Hmm… Maybe we should give your dad a call and find out? I'd like a copy of the medical report…"

"No! My… My dad's at work, so you probably can't reach him anyway."

"Oh I'm sure we could. Where does he work?"

"What's it matter?"

"I'd like to speak with him."

"You can't."

"And why not?"

"You just can't, okay?!" Dean was pulling back towards the wall again.

"Are you afraid to get him involved?"

_Yes!_ "No! Why would I be?"

"Maybe because he's the reason you're hurt in the first place…?"

"Read my lips, lady… My. Dad. Never. Laid. A finger. On. Us."

"If you say so, son."

"Don't call me son."

Both women shared a look and shook their heads sadly, annoying Dean even further. The nurse's hand snaked out and grasped his wrist once again before he fully made it back into his corner.

"Let's take a look at that shoulder, shall we? Can you move the limb enough to remove your shirt, or do we need to cut the shirt off?"

"I can move it," Dean growled, having lost enough clothing to injuries as it was. The only problem was, he _couldn't_ really move it. When Dean made no move to shuck the clothing himself, he was pulled back into the center of the room and surrounded by the concerned women.

Now Dean is usually a lady's man, and when asked to remove articles of clothing, would do so willingly just to be a showoff. His training and hunting made him very built for his age. However, in this case, he was actually blushing all over due to the fact these women were acting more like mothers than flirting girls. Not to mention they were threatening to destroy his family if he didn't cooperate. That tended to ruin the mood.

With Helen in front of him and the nurse behind, both helping to remove his shirt over his aching shoulder, he wanted to just shrivel up and die. His dad was _so _gonna kill him for getting caught…

The nurse's eyes fell on the white bandages first that were now spotted with red blood from all the movement Dean had been doing. Then she locked on to the patchwork of scars in between and all over the rest of his back and shoulder blades from older hunts.

"Dear god…" the nurse whispered, making Dean roll his eyes. It wasn't _that _bad. Helen gave him a stern look not to move, then she circled around behind him as well and gasped at what she saw.

"Oh, Sweetie…"

Dean whirled around to face them, sick of them staring at his back like he was a piece of artwork instead of a boy. "First of all, I am _not _your _Sweetie_, and second of all, it's not as bad as it looks! I was in a car crash when I was little. My mom died and I'd rather not talk about it. And I already told you what the new cuts were made from. Now I've kept my end of the deal, so you keep yours and bring me back to Sam!"

The counselor knew her next question was supposed to be if there were any other injuries that hadn't been mentioned yet, but she knew Dean would never tell her the truth.

Both women were still looking at him as though he was a kicked puppy, making him feel very uneasy. Giving up on waiting for a response, Dean spun on his heel once more, grabbed his shirt, and headed for the door. Just as he was reaching for the handle, the door swung open and a tall, slender man walked in.

TBC

Like it or hate it? Any suggestions for upcoming chapters? Anything you'd like to see happen? Just let me know!


	5. Don't Tell Daddy

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

_Both women were still looking at him as though he was a kicked puppy, making him feel very uneasy. Giving up on waiting for a response, Dean spun on his heel once more, grabbed his shirt, and headed for the door. Just as he was reaching for the handle, the door swung open and a tall, slender man walked in._

Dean backpedaled to avoid walking straight into the man.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat, clearly aggravated with all this unwanted attention.

"My name is James Holderfeld. I work for the CPS."

Dean knew that stood for the Child Protective Services. He spun angrily back to the counselor. "You said if I cooperated you weren't going to call them!"

"You gave me no choice, Dean. I knew you and your brother were lying from the start, and judging by the multitude of scars of varying ages, I was right to call them."

"You people just don't know when to let up, do you? Bring me back to my brother!"

"We're not finished here yet, Dean. This man has some questions for you and we haven't completed our exam yet."

"Yeah, actually, you have. And I'm not answering any questions!"

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, son," Holderfeld stated.

"Stop calling me son!"

"Dean, I would like you to kick off your shoes and lie down on this cot here so we can finish the exam," Helen stated.

"And I'd like for all of you to go away, but that doesn't look like it's gonna happen anytime soon, does it?"

"We could give you a sedative if it will help you relax," the nurse offered.

"You do _not _have the right…!"

The nurse began preparing a small needle by the counter. Dean's ranting stuttered to a stop as she started walking towards him, corralling him towards the cot. When she took hold of his arm, he caved in and quickly toed off his shoes.

"Okay, okay! Back off!" He painfully hoisted himself onto the makeshift bed but remained sitting upright rigidly.

"Thank you, Dean. Now let's finish this up, shall we?"

The nurse handed the needle to the man from the CPS and walked around the cot to get at Dean's back again. She carefully removed the bandage from his shoulder, as well as the one around his lower back. When she could finally see what she was up against, it was painfully obvious that no glass had been involved. The scratches seemed to have been made by some sort of animal, and his shoulder, possibly blunt force. But the stitching…

"Dean, I think we all know that you never went to the hospital for these. This is military training stitches. Who did them?"

"My dad was a marine, okay? He takes care of most of our scrapes and bruises cause we can't afford to go to the hospital unless it's serious."

"Did he at least use some form of anesthesia?"

"Of course he did! He's not a butcher!" Dean was pleased that they seemed to have finally bought one of his lies. His father hadn't "procured" any anesthetics in months. It was too risky at the best of times.

Holderfeld took out a small camera and began snapping photos of his wounds.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?!" Dean yelled indignantly, trying to shy away from the condemning technology.

"Collecting evidence."

Dean was so focused on him that he gave a surprised yelp and his back arched when the nurse prodded at one of his deepest scratches.

"Easy, Sweetie…" the counselor soothed, walking over to stand in front of him and rub a comforting hand up and down his uninjured arm. He jerked away in anger.

The nurse replaced the gauze bandages, then placed a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder and began directing him down to lie flat on the cot.

Dean squirmed, forced to use many of his torn muscles to combat the pressure she was exerting on him. "Let go of me!"

"Just relax and let us finish, Dean. Lie down on your back if it's not too painful."

Not wanting to give her any more ammo on his injuries, he pushed away the pain and did as he was told. His ability and discipline to do so confirmed the fact that he was raised to be a soldier.

As she did with Sam, the nurse strategically placed pressure in certain spots on his chest and abdomen to check for internal damage or broken bones. He grudgingly allowed her to continue with the ministrations until she reached his belt and began to loosen it.

He shot up into a sitting position and grabbed her wrist with a crushing strength.

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, hun. I just want to make sure we aren't missing any other injuries. I just need to see your legs."

"There's nothing wrong with my legs! I walked in here, didn't I?"

"It will only take a minute. Please lay back down."

As all three of the adults moved in to help pin him down, Sam came barreling through the door, looking very upset. Apparently, had slipped out of his room and was on his way to find Dean, having waited long enough, and heard his brother's yells.

He certainly wasn't pleased to find three adults trying to restrain Dean.

"Let him go!" he yelled, startling everyone in the room. Dean's head swung towards the door.

"Sam, run! Get out of here!"

"No! Dean! Get off of him!"

Sam ran to the cot and began punching and kicking those he now saw as enemies until the man he had never met pinned him up against the wall with his arms crossed behind his back to prevent further injuries.

"Sam?! Damn it, get your hands off of him!" Dean screamed in fury, watching his brother lose the battle. Dean broke free of the two women and went to his brother's aid. He punched the man hard in the kidney and as the man let go of Sam and turned to take on the older brother, Dean threw a hard right to his jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor.

Dean pulled his brother to him in a tight embrace as the boy's tears began to finally fall down his face, all bravado forgotten.

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm right here. Everything's fine…" Dean started when he felt a sharp pinch in his arm and looked to find the nurse emptying the sedative into his system. "What are you doing?!"

Sam jumped at his brother's words and gripped on to him tighter. In return, Dean did the same.

The nurse backed away quickly once the needle was empty, waiting for it to take effect. The man had pushed himself back onto his feet, though he was using the wall to steady himself until he could get everything back into focus. The boy could hit hard!

The counselor was moving in again as well. The Winchester boys were surrounded. Helen placed a firm hand on Dean's uninjured shoulder once more and as he shook off her grip, the room began to spin and he teetered.

"Dean? Dean, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Sam asked worriedly as he felt his brother tilting in his grip. He hadn't seen what the nurse had done.

"I'll be okay, kiddo. Listen, you need to get home to dad and tell him what happened, okay?"

"But Dean, I want to stay with…!"

"Son, Sam isn't going anywhere just yet, and neither are you," the man said, clearly not pleased with a fifteen year old besting him moments earlier.

"If you want my cooperation, he does!"

"We don't need your cooperation anymore. The sedative will kick in soon."

Sure enough, Dean's knees were beginning to buckle. He could feel the strength being drained from his body, but still he refused to let his brother go.

"Sam, why don't you come with me?" Helen held her hand out for him.

Dean, knowing he was fighting a losing battle, decided he should get Sam out of the room before he collapsed and scared his brother even more.

"Go ahead, Sammy. Everything will be okay. Promise." He kissed his brother on top of the head and then released him, giving him a slight nudge towards the counselor. When he caught her eye, he made sure she understood that he didn't ever break his promises, especially not to his little brother.

She nodded back respectfully, then took hold of Sam's hand and led him back outside just before Dean's knees fully gave way and he hit the ground, holding back another cry of pain as he connected with the hard tiles. The nurse and Holderfeld picked him up and placed him back on the cot.

"That's it… Nice and easy, Sweetie… Try to relax…" the nurse tried to console him.

"Easy for you to say…" Dean grumbled back as his arms and legs were almost fully numb. "What the hell did you give me?"

"10mg of diazepam. I need you to calm down, Dean. We don't want to hurt you."

"Coulda fooled me…"

The nurse seemed to ignore this statement.

"Now, we're just gonna take a little look here. Nothing to be worried about…" She kept darting her eyes to his face to gauge his reactions, hoping they would be able to help her piece the puzzle that was Dean Winchester together.

Again, she reached for his belt and finished undoing it before moving on to his button and zipper. Dean tried to fight her off again but lacked the strength to do so. Only his fear and determination were keeping him conscious at this point. Dean knew what she would find, but his father and brother had no idea.

When he had sunk to his knees by his fallen brother's side last night, he had landed on a piece of flat rock that had been covered with sharp sticks and pebbles. At the time, he had been too worried about his brother to feel the pain, but when he woke up the next morning, the pain he felt when he moved told him his knees would be swollen and most likely a horrible black and blue, no doubt with cuts and scratches littering them.

When he had thrown back the blankets his father had covered them with, he was somewhat surprised to find he was no longer wearing his jeans and made the correct assumption that his father had removed them due to the fact they were still soaked. However, his knees were deeply bruised and had not been attended to. Either his father had missed them the night before, or the bruising hadn't shown up yet.

Not wanting to alarm his father with more injuries, he went straight into the bathroom and cleaned them up himself. The only problem was hiding the bruises. He figured he was golden when he pulled on a clean pair of jeans. He had to be very conscious of how he walked so as not to give away the pain it caused him. If his father found out he had hid an injury from him, he'd be livid.

The nurse, acknowledging the fear in his eyes, carefully slid Dean's jeans off and covered her mouth with her hand when she took in the damage. Horrible thoughts ran through her mind as to why the boy's knees would be so badly bruised.

Just then, the counselor reappeared and took in the same sight the other two adults had seen. She also saw the fear and anger in Dean's face for having the injuries discovered. She too was coming up with similar theories as to why the boy would be forced to his knees so harshly. Wanting to comfort him, she ran her fingers gently through his hair and gave him that stupid pitying smile once more. Dean really hated that smile.

The nurse beckoned the other two towards the far end of the room and Dean shut his eyes in exhaustion and frustration, attempting to keep his tears in check.

Dean could hear the three adults conversing on the other side of the room, even though they were trying to whisper and stay out of earshot.

"Do you think we should run a rape kit?" Holderfeld asked the nurse, shooting a worried glance back at him. Dean was more than fed up. His eyes shot back open, though his vision was very blurry, and he managed to turn his head to the side enough to see them looking back at him.

"You touch me one more time and I'll beat the shit outa you!" (_A/N: Or if you prefer… "If you fudgin' touch me again, I'll fudgin' kill you!" wink wink)_

Holderfeld and the counselor looked taken aback.

"Shouldn't he have passed out by now? How strong was that sedative?" Holderfeld asked.

"Strong enough for him to have collapsed almost instantly," she admitted in bewilderment. She had never seen a child fight the effects for so long and still be winning. He had been trained well.

"It's almost like he's built up a resistance to it."

"Let's get their father down here for questioning. Someone's gotta know what really happened to these boys," Helen suggested.

"Let's hope so," the nurse conceded.

That was the last thing Dean heard before the drugs won over and he was enveloped by the darkness.

TBC

The shit's really hitting the fan now, huh? Suggestions?


	6. Unfit

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

When Dean woke up again, he was alone in the room and still laying on the cot. After a few failed attempts at getting his limbs to respond, he forced his body into a sitting position, then carefully slid his legs over the edge. He pushed off one handed and used the cot to steady himself as his feet hit the ground. He felt very woozy and disoriented.

His first priority was getting his clothes back on as he was still only in his boxers. Dean glanced around the room searchingly until he found them folded neatly on a chair by the door, his sneakers underneath it.

Silently, he slipped to the chair and pulled his jeans on, feeling much more secure as he fastened the belt tightly around his waist. His shirt was a bit more difficult to maneuver but he managed it without more than a small gasp of pain. He grabbed his sweatshirt and slid his shoes back on, then prepared to sneak out the door in search of his brother.

What was going on? Did they forget about him? How long was he out? Was school over now? Was his father here?

He glanced at his watch and was shocked to find only forty-five minutes had passed since he was called down to the guidance office so he couldn't have been out for long. School was still in session, and his brother had to be nearby.

Dean cracked the door open and peered out of the small bathroom. From the angle of the room, he couldn't see much of the larger office. Not wanting to be trapped in the room again, he slid out and shut the door behind him. As he walked along the row of offices, he peered into each one, hoping to catch sight of his brother.

"Dean Winchester?"

Dean whirled around to face the secretary that had called him down.

"Depends on why you need to know…" he answered warily. She smiled.

"Helen and Mr. Holdenfeld went to meet your father at the door. Your brother is waiting with Nurse Roderick in the far office. You're welcome to join them if you'd like."

"Damn right I do." With his anger boiling just under the surface again, he stormed to the last door to find the nurse grilling Sam for information. Sam just sat in his chair, hands over his ears, eyes clenched tightly shut, and shaking his head back and forth furiously.

Dean walked right up to his brother, knelt down in front of him ignoring the nurse's surprised look, and placed his hands over Sam's until his little brother opened his eyes and looked up. Sam instantly stopped shaking his head and more tears began streaming down his face when he realized his brother had come to rescue him as always. Even if the world was ending, he could always count on Dean.

Sam wrapped his arms around his brother's neck and buried his face in Dean's collarbone. Dean stroked his hair and back gently, ignoring the pain that spiked up his arm when he forced it to wrap around his brother's skinny waist.

"Dean! Did they hurt you? What happened? I think they called dad…" Sam's voice kept hitching as he sobbed.

"Shh… Just breathe, buddy… Everything's gonna be fine," Dean whispered gently in his ear. He rocked his brother back and forth until he stopped crying and slowly pulled back, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. "You okay, bro?"

Sam nodded and sniffed. Dean ruffled his moppy hair, then stood and took his brother's hand in his own.

"Sam and I are leaving. We've had enough of your meddling for one day. Come on, Sammy."

The nurse shook herself out of the sappy hallmark moment she had entered while watching the boys and forced herself to speak up.

"Hun, you know I can't let you do that. Just wait here until your father comes."

"What the hell for? It's not like you're gonna let us leave with him anyway." Dean turned to his brother who was shaking in fear and his puppy dog eyes were red and puffy. "Cover your ears again, Sammy." Dean brought Sam's hands up and placed them over his ears before pulling him tightly to his side and continuing. "Look, I know how this shit works, and I know you don't believe us. Frankly, I don't give a crap and you can think what you want, but don't you _dare _hurt my family any more than you already have."

"I know it's not easy being caught in the middle of these things, Dean, but once this is all sorted out, it will mean a better life for you and your brother. You won't have to be an adult anymore. You'll have your chance to be a normal kid again."

"Normal is overrated. I don't want it and never have. I protect my family cause it's mine and I have the right to do so. I couldn't ask for a better life unless you have some amazing ability to bring our mom back, but I highly doubt it…"

The nurse had the decency to look regretful and drop her eye contact.

"Didn't think so. If you _ever _try to take him from my side again, I promise you will regret it." Dean reached down for Sam's hand again who took it instantly and dropped his other hand back to his side.

Dean headed for the door once more, little brother in tow, and again his escape was thwarted as the nurse spoke up.

"Dean, you are a minor and we don't need your permission to keep you here. If we are forced to subdue you, trust me we won't hesitate."

"And if you force me to retaliate, trust me I won't hold back this time," Dean threatened.

A chill ran down the nurse's spin at Dean's words and the icy daggers in his eyes. This boy scared her. She had no doubt he could make good on his threat. Luckily for her, she didn't have to try and stop him again as John came barreling into the office, Helen and Holdenfeld running to catch up.

"Dean?! Sam?!" John slowed down as he caught sight of his two sons and began walking towards them to wrap them up in a bear hug but Holdenfeld ran around him and placed a halting hand to his chest. John wasn't far from a murdering spree at this point, having heard the accusations against him and guessed at what his children had been put through in his absence.

"Get your hand off me before I break it."

"Mr. Winchester, you're not allowed near your sons until we've had a chance to chat."

"I'd like to see you stop me! I've done nothing but care for my boys, and I want to find out what damage _you_ have done to them since I dropped them off this morning!"

The counselor stepped in next to Holdenfeld. "Sir, if you'll just follow me into my office, we can sort all this out…"

"Not. Until. I talk. To my boys."

"I'm afraid that's not an option…"

"Well make it one!"

"Sir, I must ask you to stop yelling in front of your children or you will just scare them even more."

"Fuck you! I'll shout if I goddamn want to! Get the hell outta my face!"

"Dad!"

John's attention immediately swiveled to his eldest son's.

"Dad, we're okay. Just get this sorted out so we can all go home. Please."

Hearing how hard Dean was trying to keep himself together for his brother and not missing the small hitch in his voice at the last word, John's heart constricted painfully. He took a deep breath to calm himself down.

"Alright. You boys take a seat where I can see you and I'll get this over with as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir," they responded identically.

"That we can do," the counselor agreed, happy they could find a middle ground. "Follow me, Mr. Winchester."

The counselor, Holdenfeld, John, and a newly-arriving Mrs. Prescott all piled into Helen's office and closed the door behind them. Dean situated himself and Sam in two seats that could be observed through the office window. John kept shooting glances their way as though to make sure they hadn't been whisked from his life forever.

"Mr. Winchester, I need you to focus for a minute. Mrs. Prescott here, one of Sam's teachers, has observed your son in pain on more than one occasion. This particular time, she could tell Sam's back was bothering him and sent him to me for examination. Upon investigation, we found that your son's entire backbone was blanketed in bruises. Could you explain that for me, please?"

Though John loved his boys dearly, he did not share the same connection they did. He knew whatever lies they invented would not match whatever he could come up with, so he dodged the question.

"Mrs. Prescott, I'm very thankful that you're watching out for my son, but that is my job and I swear to you I do not take it lightly. I've seen Sam's bruising and I'm taking care of it. I assure you it's nothing I can't handle. I was a marine and learned field medicine. If I thought there was serious damage done, I would have brought them directly to the hospital, regardless of cost."

"That's all well and good, sir, but you did not answer my question." The counselor brought his attention back to her.

"To be honest, I'm not sure what happened. I suppose the boys were horsing around or something like young boys do. They didn't tell me how they got them, but they showed me their injuries and I did what I could."

"Ah. I see. Then you also know about your eldest's injuries then?"

"Of course I do. I did his stitches."

"Tell me, what did you use for anesthesia?"

"I… Uh…" John was blanking on specific names, mainly because he hadn't had to use it in years. The boys were tough enough to be patched up without it.

"I knew it! You didn't use one, did you? You sewed up that poor boy's back and he was fully cognizant of every needle prick, wasn't he?"

"I don't need you to tell me how to care for my kids! They're tough boys! If they couldn't handle it, they'd have said so!"

"Unbelievable… And I'm sure you taught them how to lie as well? Your eldest son is very skilled in that area, though I'm sure he has to be if he doesn't want people to find out about the truth of his wounds."

"My son only lies if he doesn't trust who he's talking to. Can't blame him there."

"How often do you have to patch them up, Mr. Winchester?"

"The name's John, and not often. Boys will be boys and they get the usual bumps and scrapes like every other kid. Nothin' a Band-Aid and some peroxide can't handle."

"You mean like the deep gouges in Dean's back? Did a nice little Band-Aid and peroxide take care of that too?" She knew she was getting too attached to this case, but she couldn't help it. She had a soft spot for these kids, and finding inept caregivers was the only satisfaction she could muster throughout the day. It made her feel like she was making a difference.

"Of course not! You saw the gauze patches, didn't you? I'm not an idiot!"

"And your sons aren't punching bags, or adults for that matter! I didn't have to be with Dean for more than three minutes to see that he was forced to grow up too fast in order to care for his brother. Where were you during their childhood?"

"You think being a parent is easy? Cause I've got news for you, sister, it ain't. Especially not a single father who has to keep food on the table as well. I've done the best I can for my boys since their mother died."

"Well perhaps your best isn't good enough, sir. You're boys have been scared both physically and emotionally under your care, and I've read in their files that you have also denied them stability. Why is that?"

"I told you I was in the marines. They keep me traveling from one base camp to another, both for work and to keep my family safe. That's the life of an army brat, like it or not."

"Sam and Dean are not soldiers, John. They're just boys. You need to start treating them that way, or you're going to lose them."

"No one takes my boys away from me." There was no rage or threat behind his words. It was just a simple statement of fact. Nevertheless, the counselor bristled.

"We take our jobs very seriously, sir. And we will remove them from your custody if we deem you an unfit parent."

TBC

Not good! What meddlesome fools! Hehe. Any ideas or events you'd like to see?

P.S. Just to make it clear, I know what the counselor and nurse did was way out of line and would definitely land them in jail! This is certainly not based on reality, just going off of people's need for Deanwhumpage! Also, in case you missed it before, Dean is 15 and Sam is 11. If there's anything else that I should clarify, just let me know! Thanks again!!


	7. Out of Control

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

As the "adults" talked in the office, a stuffy old-fashioned professor-like man approached the boys.

"Samuel and Dean Winchester?"

"Sam," the youngest Winchester corrected quickly. He hated being called _Samuel_.

"My name is Dr. Steven Evans. I have been asked to speak with you two while the others are in their meeting. If you'll just follow me to my office…"

"We're not moving. We were told specifically to stay in front of _that_ window. So if you want to talk, you best pull up a chair," Dean retorted. Dr. Evans looked slightly taken aback but recovered quickly and pulled a third chair next to the huddled boys.

"This room is more spacious anyways. Good idea. Now, I believe we are here to discuss some injuries…"

"It was just an accident, chief. There's nothin' to discuss here."

"Boys, I know talking about this sort of thing can be quite awkward and unnerving, but I promise you it will be beneficial to you both."

"Yeah? How do you figure?"

"Well, you see… These injuries that seem to be reoccurring in one form or another can be stopped here and now if you just talk to me."

"Oh, I _highly _doubt that one."

"And why is that?"

"Because accidents happen. It's life. You've just gotta deal with it and move on."

"Is this you talking or your father?"

"Do I _look _like my father?"

"He was military, correct?"

"Yeah, marine. Why does everyone keep askin' me that?"

"Just curious I assume. It would explain your fighting techniques in the other room…"

"No… Cornering and threatening me and my brother would explain my _techniques_."

"Has anyone else threatened your brother in any way?"

"Well sure, we're in high school and the kid's a bit of a geek so he gets picked on from time to time, but nothin' I can't smooth over after a little chat."

Sam snuggled further into his brother's arms.

"I see… And what about outside of school?"

"Look, I'm not stupid, alright? I know what you're gettin' at, and the answer is no." Dean darted his eyes through the window to his dad, then back to the psychologist. In doing so, his vision blurred and black spots flashed in front of his eyes. He tensed and blinked a few times heavily trying to clear them. The lightheaded feeling was back again. _No no no no! Not now!_

"Son? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Course."

"You look a little peaky. Are you feeling ill?"

Sam felt Dean's muscles tighten, his arm continuously flexing and relaxing around him. He knew instantly that it was a sign his brother was fighting pain. He pushed himself up into a sitting position so he could get a better look at his brother who refused to meet his eyes. In fact, he refused to look up at all. He was squinting at the carpet, as though the overhead lights were too bright.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

"Nothin', Sammy. Don't worry about it."

Just then, the office phone began to ring shrilly and Dean recoiled with a small gasp. His hand shot to the side of his head and his face was pinched with pain. With each ring, he curled further and further into himself until he was cradling his head in his lap and clenching his teeth.

"Ah! Shit! Pick up the damn phone!" he ground out. The secretary looked scandalized but did as he asked. Dean didn't seem to relax any though.

"Dean? You havin' another one already? You just had one a few days ago!" Sam stated, rubbing his hand in circles over Dean's back, avoiding his bruised shoulder and the scratches.

"Another what? What's going on here? Does he need a hospital?"

"NO!" both boys shouted at once.

"I'll be okay, just be quiet for a minute or so, will ya?" Dean practically begged.

John glanced out the window once again to make sure his boys were still there and wasn't pleased with what he saw. Dean was practically curled in the fetal position, cradling his head. Sam was trying to comfort him while shooting John worried looks.

"This meeting is over. My boys need me." Without waiting for an okay, John stood and strode out the door to his son's side. "Dean? What's wrong? Talk to me, kiddo."

His father's loud voice pierced through Dean's head like a drill. He covered his ears with a small whimper. John turned questioningly to his youngest. "What happened, Sam? Did he get hurt?"

"He's having another migraine, dad."

"Already? He just had one!"

"That's what I said!"

"Alright. Come on, Dean. Nice and easy. Let's get you in the dark for a while." John helped his son stand and just about carried him towards the exam room. When Dean saw where they were headed, he hit the breaks.

"No, dad… Please! Not in there!"

"Hey, hey… Shh… It's okay, son. Nothin's gonna happen to you now that I'm here, and I'm not goin' anywhere. Now let's go…" Sam followed on their dad's heals, too afraid to let Dean out of his sight.

The secretary, psychiatrist, nurse, teacher, and counselor milled around the doorway, anxious to find out what was happening and if their assistance was required. The nurse stepped forward quickly.

"Let me take a look at him. I'm sure I have something that could…"

"Don't let her, dad! I'll be fine, just make them go away."

"Son, she might have meds…"

"Please. I just want you and Sammy."

"Okay, kiddo. You got it." John marched both his boys inside the exam room and lifted Dean onto the cot before turning and closing the door behind them. Sam clambered up next to his brother and began massaging the base of Dean's skull.

Using his cell phone for lighting, John found his way to the freezer and pulled out a bag of ice, made for school injuries to stop swelling. He wrapped a few paper towels around it, then placed it on the back of Dean's neck. Sam held it in place with one hand and continued the circles on Dean's back while their dad stood in front of his brother.

"Where's it hurt, Dean?"

"All over this time," Dean moaned.

"Okay. Deep breaths. Don't try to fight it. Just relax…" He began to move his fingers expertly over his son's scalp, massaging strategic places to help lessen the pain, including his temples. He could feel Dean leaning forward into his touch and it took everything he had not to just stop and pull his eldest into a tight hug.

Before he had the chance to do so, the door swung open again and Dean yelped as the piercing light burned his eyes that had already gotten used to the pitch black exam room. John quickly stood in front of his son, pulling Dean's head into his shirt to block out the light.

"Shut the door, you idiot!" John hissed, keeping his voice low. Only when she spoke did he realize it was the counselor.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we can't allow you three to be alone together until we've solved our little problem."

"Your _little problem_ has nothing to do with my family, so just leave us alone, and shut the damn door on your way out."

"I will step out, but I need you to come with me, sir."

John growled low in his throat. He didn't want to leave his son, but he knew if he refused there would be trouble and Dean needed quiet right now. The worst part was John knew he could easily take these people, but a huge brawl in his sons' school was not acceptable.

"Sammy, keep an eye on your brother. I'll be in to check on him in a few minutes." With that, John turned and followed the counselor out into the light. The nurse was waiting for him, concern written all over her face.

"Does Dean get migraines often?"

"Not usually. Maybe once or twice a month. Never twice in one week before, but he just had one two days ago. He's had them since he was six."

"I'm sure the stress of the day didn't help any, poor boy…"

"I should be in there with him."

The counselor bristled at his words, but realized there was only self-loathing in them. They were not directed towards her or her co-workers in any way. It seemed as though he was merely upset at his own weakness to not fight her previous demand. She softened immediately.

"Thank you for cooperating, John. You've got to understand the position I'm in here."

"You respect mine, and I'll respect yours. I may not be the best father in the world, but I'm all they got."

She nodded her understanding. After all, she had two young children of her own. They meant everything to her, and she'd do and give anything to keep them safe and happy. But this man didn't have _children_, he had _soldiers_. He trained them that way.

"Well, John, it's obvious you love your boys, but I still don't approve of how you raised them."

"I did what I had to do. I can't change history."

"Maybe not. But it's my job to make sure _this_ kind of history _doesn't_ repeat itself. I'm afraid we don't have any choices at this point. Your boys will have to go to a children's home while we finish our investigation."

"I don't think so, lady!"

"Uh, I might have a second option, Helen."

Both the counselor and John whipped around to face Mrs. Prescott. Helen nodded for her to continue. "I could bring the boys to my house until this is all sorted out. I promise I would take good care of them and there wouldn't be any chance of them getting lost in the system, Mr. Winchester. I feel like I owe them that much after all this."

Helen turned back to John. "Either way, sir, you are not allowed to take them out of this school. We can allow for them to spend this time with Mrs. Prescott if you so chose."

After a few minutes of quick processing and decision making, John chose the best option he had. "Alright, Mrs. Prescott. But you better take damn good care of them until I get them back, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I will treat them as though they were my own."

Meanwhile, Dean was trying to focus on his breathing instead of the pounding pain behind his eyes that seemed to course through his entire body. Sam continued to hold the ice on his brother's neck and to rub his back.

"Why don't you lay down, Dean?" Sam whispered, careful not to make his brother's migraine worse.

Dean turned his head to look at his brother. He could just barely see around the room thanks to the small sliver of light coming from underneath the door. As he turned, his stomach flipped painfully and instead of answering, he was diving across the room to the sink in the corner, emptying his stomach of his meager breakfast.

"Dean!" Sam slid off the cot and ran to his brother's side, gripping his upper arm tightly to help him balance. "They're getting worse, aren't they?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Now that that is settled, Mr. Winchester, you can go h…"

"One more question," the nurse piped up before Helen could finish her dismissal. "Do you have any idea what happened to Dean's knees? I find it hard to believe they got that way from fooling around."

"What are you talking about? What's wrong with his knees?" John wasn't sure he could take any more bad news for one day, but he had to know.

"They're horribly bruised! Even cut up in places. That's no child's play."

"I… I don't know, but I assure you I'll have a talk with him about it…"

Helen wasn't sure she liked the tone of his voice. It seemed as though he were upset. But why? Because they had discovered what he had done to his child, perhaps? Would he take out his anger on Dean for not hiding his injuries better? Over her dead body.

"So your son kept his injuries from you?"

"Seems so," John bit out.

"I thought you said your son only lies to those he doesn't trust?"

"Do _not _use my own words against me! That is not lying. It could have happened after I dropped him off today for all I know."

Yes, John was furious, but not because Dean's injuries had been discovered. At least, not wholly. He was upset with himself for missing these other injuries in his cursory exam the night before, and he was angry that Dean had failed to mention them to him earlier.

Of course he could easily figure out when they might have happened. He certainly didn't enjoy finding out like this. He definitely _would _be having a talk with his son the next chance he got. Hiding injuries, no matter what the reason, is _never_ a good idea.

"Myself and Holdenfeld will be in touch with you soon to schedule an interview. Only if you are cleared by us will you be able to get your children back. You are officially under investigation. You children will be informed of their new arrangements shortly. You may go, but don't leave town."

John, realizing the seriousness of the situation for the first time, deflated immediately. "Just… Let me tell them, okay? Let me see them again before I leave."

"With one of us present, that won't be a problem."

"I'll go," the nurse spoke up. "I should check on Dean anyway."

John bristled slightly at that comment. It was _his _job to check up on his sons, not hers. Not anyone else's. Dean was his boy, and right now, he needed his father.

He forced the agitation away and walked back to the door blocking his sons from view. The two of them slipped in to the room, only leaving it open a crack for lighting purposes. Immediately, John noted that his sons were no longer where he left them. The next sound told him why. Dean was throwing up in the sink and Sam was trying to comfort him and hold him up.

"Dean?!" John darted to his son's side to help. He quickly wrapped his arms around his son's waist and chest to keep him on his feet. Sam had been struggling because he still wasn't strong enough to carry his brother's weight. Sam slid out of the way, but stayed close in case he was needed for anything.

"Argh! God, make it stop, dad…" Dean whimpered as his muscles contracted again painfully. He had nothing left in his stomach to expel, but that didn't stop his body from trying.

"You need to calm down, Dean. You're just making it worse. Breathe through it, just like we've practiced…"

"Daddy? What's wrong with him? They don't usually get this bad…"

"He's going to be fine, Sammy. I'm sure it's just the stress."

"John, why don't you let me take a look at him," the nurse butted in.

"No!" the entire Winchester family shouted back, each voice filled with a different emotion; John with anger, Dean with fear, and Sam with a plea.

Dean had instantly begun to work himself up again as he realized the nurse was in the room with him. He was forced to dive back towards the sink as he wretched once more painfully. When he finished, he slumped exhaustedly into his father's strong arms and for the first time all day felt protected. Sam snuggled close to his dad's side, keeping a hand on his brother's knee for contact.

The nurse stayed by the door, taking it all in and shaking her head sadly. She just didn't know what to make of this small family anymore.

TBC

Keep those ideas coming! You're all amazing!!


	8. Blame Game

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

Feeling Dean curling up against his chest in pain, John was beginning to feel helpless. Wounds and concussions he could deal with. He knew nothing of migraines and knew his son needed help. But he also knew Dean would adamantly refuse to being examined by the nurse yet again. Apparently, things hadn't gone too well the last time.

"Dean, son…I think you should let the nurse take a look at you," he whispered to his agonized child.

"Dad, no! She'll just cause us more problems! It'll go away! I swear…!"

Dean had a death grip on John's shirt, pleading with his father not to let him go. Sam had a few tears dripping down his cheeks at his brother's obvious vulnerability. Dean was usually the tough one of the family, just like his father.

"I need you to trust me, kiddo. Can you do that?"

Dean swiped at his eyes and sniffed loudly, trying to pull himself back together and not let his father down. He swore to be his father's soldier through and through. He cleared his throat softly, then nodded, forcing his grip to relax a little on his dad's shirt.

"That's my boy. Let's get you off the floor, bud."

John tightened his grip around his son's shoulders and slid his other arm under Dean's knees, easily lifting him into the air. Dean gasped in pain as pressure was forced on his busted shoulder, his bruised knees were bent awkwardly, and the movement made his head throb harder and his stomach roll again.

"Easy, Dean. Just hang in there."

John placed his son back on the exam cot and shot a glance over to the nurse, informing her that he wouldn't bite her head off if she came closer, as long as she didn't cause his kids any more pain.

She nodded back and approached slowly, not wanting to alarm the tightly bonded family, especially the edgy Dean.

Dean tensed instantly as he saw the nurse's outline approaching over his father's shoulder.

"Relax, son. I'm not going anywhere," John promised.

"Me either," Sam declared, wrapping a small hand around his brother's protectively.

Dean forced a smile to his brother in gratitude. Man, he loved that kid. Sam's broad, goofy smile instantly lightened the attitude of the room.

"Face me, Dean," the nurse instructed, and Dean did as he was told. She pressed her fingers just above his eyebrows. "Does it hurt when I do this?"

"No."

She tried again underneath his eyes, just above the cheek bones. "Here?"

"Not really."

When she touched his temples, she felt him wince and recoil.

"Okay. Easy, Sweetie. Any cramping in your stomach or intestines?"

"What? No. What does that have to do with…"

"It's another possible side effect of migraines. Just covering all the bases, hun. Do you think you can keep some medication down?"

Dean thought about it, then swallowed thickly and shook his head no. He felt as though if he even tried to sip some water it would come right back up again.

"Alright. You can lay back down, hunny. John, when was the last time Dean has seen a doctor about these migraines?"

"He hasn't. They don't usually get this bad. A little time in the dark and quiet and he's back to normal."

"I think he should really get some screenings and tests done. They would be for his own good, to rule out any possible causes that can be addressed."

"Tests? Like what?"

"Well, there's a CT scan, an MRI, and maybe a spinal tap to be safe."

"Look, we don't have insurance or that kind of money for tests like…"

"John, it's in your son's best interest at this point. Twice in one week is a bit alarming."

"Well if you people would just let me bring him home and put him to bed, he'd be alright!" John hissed as quietly as possible.

Unfortunately, both of his children heard.

"What do you mean? Why can't we go home with you? What's going on?" Sam grilled.

John sighed. "Boys, you're gonna have to stay with Mrs. Prescott for a while until I can get this all cleared up."

"But dad…!" Dean started, then quickly clamped his mouth shut as he felt the nausea burning through his throat again.

"No buts. There's nothin' I can do about it right now. But don't worry. We'll figure this all out soon."

A soft knock on the door drew everyone's attention. The counselor stuck her head in. "Mr. Winchester, it's time for you to leave now. Officer Roberts will escort you from the premises. Don't worry. Your children are in good hands."

"Yeah, right." Maybe a little sarcasm slipped through that statement…

"Dad, you can't leave us! Please don't go!" Sam begged, running to his dad's side and locking his small arms around his waist.

"I need you to take care of your brother for me, Sam. Be strong, kiddo."

Sam sniffed, then nodded. The nurse gently pulled him away from his father and John headed towards the door.

"Feel better, bud," he tossed over his shoulder to Dean, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sam broke free of the nurse's grip and ran back to his brother's side. Dean forced his body down off the cot and locked his knees so they wouldn't buckle. He pulled Sam tight against his chest, both for comfort and his own support.

"It's gonna be okay, bro. At least we're still together, right?"

He felt Sam nod against his collarbone.

"Dean, you shouldn't be up right now," the nurse scolded.

"I'll be fine. Please just leave us alone."

"It would be irresponsible of me to leave you in this condition."

"Whatever. Look, can we just go now? Not like we're gonna be able to concentrate in class after all this…"

"I'll ask if Mrs. Prescott is able to take you home. I'll be right back."

She left, closing the door behind her and plunging the boys back into the peaceful darkness.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, dude?"

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry for all of this… for getting caught…"

"Hey. Stop that. None of this is your fault, okay? We should have just taken the day off to heal some more. I should have realized that you weren't ready to come back yet."

Sam could hear the self-recrimination in his brother's voice. "No, Dean. It isn't your fault either. We shouldn't have gone on this hunt in the first place."

"Come on, Sam. Don't blame dad instead. He needed our help. That's all there is to it. We save lives, Sammy, with every evil son-of-a-bitch we kill. If the world was a little more open-minded, we'd be with dad right now. If you want to blame somethin', blame the system."

"They're all just tryin' to help, Dean. That's their job. For any normal kid showin' up with our kinds of injuries, it most likely _is _child abuse. I bet they've saved a lot of lives too, just in a different way."

"You're pretty smart for your age, you know that?" Dean ruffled his brother's hair and didn't need light to know there was a goofy smile on Sam's face again.

"Not as smart as you."

"Ha. Right. I don't know half the shit you do, kiddo."

"You're more street-smart than me though. Books can only get you so far, especially in our world."

"I'll teach you if you teach me. Fair enough?"

"I love you, Dean."

"You too, Sammy."

"Dean? Are we gonna be safe without…?"

Sam stopped abruptly as the door swung open again, spilling a stream of light into the room. Dean groaned, shutting his eyes and turning his head away from the door. Sam glared at the reappearing nurse for causing his brother more pain. He may be younger, but he's still very protective of his big brother.

"Sorry, Dean. Mrs. Prescott has gotten a substitute to cover her last few classes of the day. She is ready to take you home now if you are feeling well enough to leave."

"Hell yeah I am. Let's go, Sammy."

"But Dean… The light…"

"I said let's go. You don't want to be stuck here any longer, do you?"

"Dean?"

"What's wrong, dude?"

"I'm scared," Sam whispered.

"Yeah. Me too. But I promise we'll be okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

"But who's goin' to protect you?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I've got your back, Dean, whether you need it or not."

"Ditto. Lead the way, little man."

Dean took a deep, calming breath before following his little brother to the door.

TBC

Any ideas?


	9. Get Your Things

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

Dean staggered slightly at the door as the bright room contrasted sharply with the darkness his eyes had become accustomed to. He hissed in pain and his hands shot to his head. Once he realized how vulnerable he looked, he quickly dropped his hands to his sides and forced his eyes back open.

Sam did not fail to pick up on his brother's pain and fisted a hand into the back of Dean's shirt, letting him know he was there.

As Dean got his eyes to focus through their haze of pain, he found himself practically face to face with Mrs. Prescott. She looked worried and concerned.

"Boys, get your things. You're coming home with me tonight."

"So we heard." Dean never had anything against her before. In fact, he liked her a lot, as did Sam. She was really nice, just a bit meddlesome for their particular ways of life. However, that did not mean he wasn't going to give her a hard time for trying to take his dad's place.

"Dean, I know you probably don't understand why all this is happening, but I want you to know I never meant to upset you boys. I just wanted you two to be alright."

"Thanks for lookin' out for my little brother, but that's _my_ job and I take it _very_ seriously. I wish you hadn't interfered."

"Hopefully, it will have been for the best, and I can't apologize for that." She turned and walked to the door, then turned and waited for the boys to follow.

Sam turned to Dean who nodded, then they followed. First they went to Dean's locker to pick up his jacket. Next, they picked up Sam's jacket and book bag.

"All set? Let's get going." Mrs. Prescott led the Winchesters to her car where they slid into the backseat together. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw Dean wince as the noisy engine came to life. "Dean, are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? I'm sure we can work out the payments…"

"No. I'm fine. Just tired."

Sighing, she pulled out of the parking lot and they were on their way.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled in to a small, white two-story home with blue shutters. "It's not much, but it's mine."

She carried Sam's bag in for him so Dean wouldn't have to and showed them upstairs to the spare room where they would be staying. "I'm afraid we only have a queen bed in here, but there's the couch downstairs if you prefer."

"We'll be fine, thanks." Dean was used to sharing a bed with his brother, having spent more of his life in dingy motel rooms. At least these sheets were clean. And there was no way he was going to leave his brother alone in this unprotected place.

If it wouldn't raise questions, he would have salted the windows the second they arrived. But he didn't think that would help his father's case any.

"How long do we have to stay here?"

"I'm not sure, hun. Just until they can sort everything out."

"So… basically forever."

She decided to ignore his dig on the system. "You boys take your time getting comfortable and feel free to come downstairs when you're hungry. I'll make some sandwiches for lunch."

With that, she left the boys alone. Dean dropped immediately onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow.

"Is it getting worse, Dean?"

"What?" he grumbled, barely audible.

"Your migraine, is it getting worse?"

"Nah. But it doesn't seem to want to go away, either."

"Want me to find you some Advil?"

"No. That shit clouds my head."

Sam could easily hear the underlying _and I want to be at the top of my game in case something happens_.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Airplanes."

"Deeeaaan… You know what I meant. I can tell when you're getting anxious and dad says your instincts are usually right. So what are you afraid of?"

Dean sighed knowing there was no talking himself out of this one. He turned his head to look at Sam. "I dunno, Sammy. I just have this feelin' that somethin's off around here. It's probably just cause dad isn't here, ya know? That and this house isn't exactly supernatural-proof. I'd give anything for a bag of salt…"

As Dean buried his head back into his pillow feeling extremely tired and sore, he felt his brother's small hand rubbing his upper back gently. He smiled faintly and allowed his body to relax a little more.

Sam's hand moved up to massage his brother's neck, hoping it would help ease Dean's pain. He felt his brother tense under his hand for a few seconds as he hit a sensitive spot, then relax again as he massaged the pain away.

"Thanks, Sammy…" Dean slurred, clearly falling asleep.

"You're welcome." Dean's inability to keep his eyes opened bothered Sam a lot. Normally in a strange place or when their dad wasn't around, Dean would keep constant vigilance over his little brother until his father returned to relieve him of his duty.

No way was Dean already _that _comfortable here. They had only just arrived. His brother was worse off than he was letting on.

Sam slid quietly out of the room, allowing Dean some peace and quiet to rest. He went downstairs, having just realized how hungry he was. He stepped timidly into the kitchen.

"Hi, Sam. Are you hungry yet?" Mrs. Prescott was bustling around the kitchen preparing supper. A plate of sandwiches was already awaiting him on the counter alongside a glass of milk.

"Yeah, a little."

"Help yourself. There's plenty more to be made if you're still hungry after that batch."

"Thanks."

"Where's your brother? Is he feeling any better?"

"He fell asleep. I don't think his headache is going away though."

"Migraines can last quite a while. I still think he should go to the hospital for some tests like the nurse suggested…"

"No! He hates hospitals."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Her suspicions were increasing again.

"Oh… uh… Cause they're scary." Sam quickly shoved a large bite of sandwich into his mouth to give himself thinking time. If he wasn't careful, he'd dig himself and his brother deeper graves.

"How often has he been in hospitals?"

"Not often. He dislocated his shoulder when he was a kid and he's broken a few bones doin' stupid stunts." _Yeah, like using his body as a shield to protect his little brother from the things that go bump in the night…_

"Stunts, huh? Is that what he wants to do when he gets older?"

Sam thought about the question. He honestly didn't know what Dean would have wanted to become if hunting wasn't forced on him as his full-time job. Most kids wanted to be firemen or policemen, but Dean had been raised to want revenge for his mother's death. That certainly wouldn't be a good answer to give his teacher though.

"Yep. He wants to be a stuntman for big budget films."

"And what do you want to be?"

"A lawyer." There was no hesitation for this answer. He had been thinking about it for a few years now. He even watched shows like Judge Judy and Law and Order when his dad was off on a hunt. Dean never questioned his television preferences, mainly because he found at least one woman on each show that was 'hot'.

"A lawyer, huh? That's pretty ambitious for a boy your age. Impressive." She winked at him and filled his glass back up with milk just after he finished it.

He beamed. "Thanks."

"Suckin' up to my brother hopin' for some answers? Not gonna happen under my watch, lady."

Neither Sam nor Mrs. Prescott had heard Dean come down the stairs. _Very stealthy… Interesting._

"Dean! Oh, you startled me. Did you get some rest?"

"Oh yeah, feel like I've been asleep for years…"

_This boy is extremely sarcastic. What's he hiding? And why?_

"Feel any better, Dean?" Sam asked. Dean immediately softened his tone as he turned to his little brother.

"Loads. Looks like you ate lunch. Good."

"Would you like some food now, hun?"

"Nah. Not hungry. Thanks anways. Just wanted to make sure _he_ ate somethin'. He's a growin' boy after all." Dean smirked at Sam who giggled and shook his head in return.

"At least come and have a seat. You look dead on your feet."

"I'm fine." Dean leaned his uninjured shoulder against the doorframe. He wanted to keep up his mask of stoicism and was afraid that if he walked across the room, he'd sway or even collapse. It took everything he had just to get down the stairs without falling flat on his face. Also, sitting wasn't really an option with his back aching like it was.

Before she could insist on him taking a seat, her doorbell rang.

"Hmm… wonder who that could be?"

Sam slid off his seat and came up behind Dean who instantly used his body to block the doorway, protecting his little brother from the newcomer. All three were surprised to see the counselor carrying two night bags the boys instantly recognized as their own.

"Sorry to bother you at home, Mrs. Prescott, but Mr. Winchester dropped these bags off for the boys a little while ago and asked that I deliver them over. Just some clothes to last a week or so in case this gets drawn out. How are they doing so far? Any complications?" She craned her head to look past the teacher to her new guests.

"They're doing fine. Sam just ate some lunch, and Dean will be eating shortly. He just woke up from a short nap to help with his migraine."

"Glad to hear it. Has the rest helped at all, Sweetie?" she called across the room to the boys standing in the doorway.

"Yes." Short and sweet. Only speak when spoken to, and never give more information than necessary.

"You boys take these upstairs while Helen and I have a chat, okay?"

The boys nodded and moved forward to claim their possessions. The women watched closely looking for any signs of fear or pain at this new development. Knowing what they were looking for, Dean took both the bags and slid them over his good shoulder, keeping his face clear of all emotion and pain. When the counselor looked almost disappointed at his lack of response, he gave her his famous cocky smile and marched his brother upstairs.

"I just don't understand why they feel they have to be so strong," Helen tutted.

"They were raised as soldiers, Helen. That's not going to change in a matter of hours. Give them time to come to terms with their new freedom."

"If they don't start admitting to the abuse their father is going to be set free. You know that, right? We don't have a lot of time if we're going to protect them."

"I'm not entirely sure that their father had anything to do with their injuries, personally."

"Oh really? Since when? If I recall, it was you who suggested it in the first place…"

"I know that. It's just, seeing the three of them together and meeting their father… I just don't see how he could do such a thing…"

"It could be many reasons, including alcohol or drugs. Maybe he has mood swings. He did lose his wife a few years ago after all. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if he turned to the bottle for comfort. We've seen it happen many times."

"The boys don't have a mother?" Concern and shock were evident in her voice.

"No. I'm sorry, I forgot you weren't there when Dean admitted that. Apparently, she died in a car crash when the boys were really young. At least, that was his excuse for all the old scars on his back. I don't think I believe it though."

"Those poor boys… I had no idea. It never came up in class."

"They've had a hard childhood and there is no doubt about it. All we can do though is to try and make it a bit easier on them now."

Mrs. Prescott nodded, still in shock at the boys' misfortune. "I should go check on them and make sure they're settling in well. Thank you for dropping off their bags."

"It was no trouble. Take care, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to give me a call."

"I won't, thank you."

With that, she closed the door and let out a sympathetic sigh, glancing at the ceiling where she knew the boys would be unpacking.

Just as Dean reached in and pulled out his last shirt, something heavy and metallic thudded onto the bed, falling out of the rolled up cloth. A relieved expression crossed his face as he picked it up. It was his trusted knife that he kept under his pillow. "Thanks, dad…" he whispered.

TBC

How am I doing so far? Questions, concerns, ideas…?


	10. Old Scars, Fresh Pain

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

Dean heard Mrs. Prescott's footsteps on the stairs and hastily thrust his knife under his pillow.

"How's the unpacking going? You boys have enough drawer space for everything?"

"Yeah, we're good. Thanks."

"No problem. If you boys need anything, I'll be downstairs correcting papers. Oh, Dean? Could I speak with you for a moment?"

"'Bout what?"

"It might be easier to speak privately…"

"Whatever you've got to say to me, you can say in front of Sammy."

"As you wish. How old were you when your mother passed away?"

Dean squared his shoulders and tensed. Clearly, this was not a topic open to discussion. "Why do you care?"

"It could make a world of difference to your dad's case. I'm just trying to help."

A long awkward pause filled the room as Dean contemplated whether he should answer or not. Mrs. Prescott was getting very uncomfortable and wondered if she should just leave and try to broach the subject again some other time. Then Dean finally spoke.

"I was four."

Knowing how far apart the brothers were, she did a quick calculation and realized that Sam was less than a year old. He never got the chance to know his mother which was hard enough on a child, but to know and experience her love only to lose her must have been that much worse on Dean. His normal life was ripped out from underneath him, and he was clearly forced to take over in her absence. That's not fair on any kid.

Breathing in deeply to calm her sadness and urge to pull the brothers into a bear hug, she attempted to keep her voice level and pressed on.

"And might I ask how it happened?"

"Car crash."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

"We don't need your pity, lady. We're fine. It was a long time ago. We're dealing with it, okay?"

Dean didn't speak another word for the rest of the day. Sam was quiet as well, but if asked a question, he would respond for himself and his brother. Dean just glared and walked away. Apparently she had hit a nerve without meaning to.

When she found an old episode of _Law and Order_ on the TV, Sam crept down the stairs and joined her, sitting on the opposite couch. She didn't hear a peep from Dean, so she assumed he was upstairs sulking or sleeping.

"Is your brother okay, Sam?"

"He will be. Mom's a bit of a sensitive subject for him."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to reopen old wounds."

"It's not the first time it's happened." Sam was thinking about when he and Dean first met Bobby Singer and his dad had to explain what had happened. He heard since then that Dean hadn't spoken a word after his mom's death for a few months. It was Bobby that got him talking again. He wished they could stay at Bobby's instead of his teacher's house while his dad was under investigation.

Meanwhile, John was going frantic and refusing any and all hunts that were sent his way because he had bigger fish to fry. When all seemed hopeless and he couldn't stand the silence of the motel anymore, he turned to one of the few friends he had left and picked up his cell.

"Yello?"

"Bobby?"

"John? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"You sound like hell. What's wrong?"

"They took my boys, Bobby. They took them both."

"What? What are you on about? Who took 'em? Where?"

"The school. You know how we were hunting those two wendigos last night?"

"Yeah… Damn it, John. What happened?"

"The boys got pretty banged up, but they chose to go to school today. I should have kept them home for another day or two, but Sammy had a quiz…"

"Where's this goin', Winchester? Where are the boys?"

"A teacher saw that Sam was hurt and then they called Dean down and found out he was too. They called child services on me cause they think I was abusing my boys!"

"Calm down. The boys are in the system?"

"No. The teacher offered to take them to her house instead. I've gotta get them back before somethin' happens, Bobby…"

"Do you know where this teacher lives?"

"Yeah. I set up the counselor to lead me right to her house. But I'm afraid if I screw this up, they'll be gone for good. I've checked on 'em a few times today, just passin' by, but I can't really tell anything from out on the street."

"I could go pick 'em up…"

"No, it wouldn't work. They won't let anyone remove them from her house until I've been cleared of charges. It'll just make matters worse, and I'm not supposed to know where she lives anyway."

"So what is it exactly you want me to do, John?"

"God, I dunno. I just… I need your help on this one, Bobby. I can't do it alone. I can't sit here and wait for their verdict."

"I'm on my way. For once in yer life, don't do anythin' stupid before I get there, alright?"

"I'll try damn hard. I can't screw this up."

"Got that right."

Back at the Prescott house, Sam's teacher noticed that the boy was starting to dose off on the couch. She flipped off the television and when Sam cracked an eye open, she told him it was time for bed.

"If you boys need anything, just let me know, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am. Night."

"Night, Sam."

Sam snuck up the stairs quietly in case his brother had fallen asleep. The room was too dark to see anything, so he called out softly. "Dean? You awake?"

As he took two more steps into the quiet room, he heard a muffled curse coming from behind the closed bathroom door. Only now did he realize the light framing the edges of the door. "Dean? You okay in there?" Sam walked briskly towards the door but stopped short in case he didn't want to see what was on the other side. Maybe Dean's lack of appetite wasn't agreeing with him. He settled for knocking.

"What?" came the clipped reply, slightly muffled by the door.

"Whatcha doin' in there, Dean?"

"Just give me a sec, Sammy…"

"You alright?"

"Argh, damn it!"

"Dean?"

"Wait your turn, Sam!"

Sam had had enough. He could tell his brother was in pain and no doubt hiding something. _Please don't be naked…_ Sam pushed the door open to find Dean's back facing the mirror, craning his neck around and trying to re-stitch a few places on his lower back where the thread tore through his skin in his struggling earlier.

"Dean! Why didn't you just ask for help?!" Sam paled as he watched Dean's hands shaking badly from the awkward positioning and pain.

"I've got it, Sammy! Go to bed."

"Turn around, bro. Just let me do it." Sam pulled himself together. He'd done this many times before, and yet it still made him a bit queasy. He supposed he had to get used to that though with his family's line of work.

"I'm almost done anyway…"

"Dean. Come on."

"Fine! Make it quick before she decides to come up and check on us."

"Paranoid much?"

"Sam, us knowing how to patch our own wounds doesn't exactly reflect well on dad unless he is a doctor or in charge of boy scouts."

"Well he was a marine. Why shouldn't he have taught us a thing or two about first aid?"

"You don't get it, Sam. They're looking for _any _excuse to keep us away from him. Just hurry it up, okay?"

Sam had rarely heard that underlying hint of fear in his brother's voice. He was bordering on frantic, but as always, was desperately trying to hold himself together in front of his little brother.

Sam quickly took hold of the needle from his brother's bloodied finger tips, doused his own fingers in the alcohol Dean had poured into a cup, and set to work doing what he did best: patching up his family. It seemed as though every other week either Dean or their dad was in need of stitches or bandages.

On an especially deep poke, Dean grunted but kept his jaw locked to keep any sound from getting out.

"Sorry." Wanting to distract his brother from the pain, Sam asked a pretty obvious question. "So where did you get all this first aid stuff?"

"Some of it was in my bag from dad, and the alcohol was in the mirror cabinet." Dean immediately locked his jaw again as Sam slid the next stitch through. Five more stitches and he was good as new. "Not bad, Sammy. Thanks."

Dean picked up his discarded shirt and was reaching for the doorknob when Sam stopped him. "Not finished yet. Hold still…"

Sam used a washcloth dunked in alcohol to clear away the blood remnants and disinfect the wounds. Dean hissed and arched his back away from the rough cloth before forcing himself to still. Lastly, Sam taped on a new bandage from their dad's kit.

"Let me look at your shoulder too before you go to bed."

"My shoulder's fine, Sam."

"That why you've barely moved it all day?"

Dean glared at his brother but knew he couldn't deny it. It was really swollen and ached when a breeze touched it.

"Either you let me check it, or I'll ask Mr. Prescott to," Sam threatened, confusing Dean.

"What? Why? Wait, she's married?"

"Yeah, she's married… To a doctor. She mentioned it in class the other day."

"Crap."

"Got that right. So what's it gonna be, Dean?"

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"I learn from the best. Sit on the toilet. I can't reach you up there…"

Dean smirked. "That's what you get, Shorty."

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed at the toilet seat.

"Demanding much?" Dean sat down with a sigh. Sam tended to be more overbearing than his dad. While John was more of the 'suck it up' type, Sammy was the mother hen.

Sam eased the bandage off his brother's shoulder who winced as it tugged on the deep bruising.

"Jeez, Dean… This looks pretty bad."

Dean twisted to see the reflection of his shoulder in the mirror and grimaced. It certainly wasn't pretty. "It'll be fine, Sam. Just clean it out and throw a bandage over it."

Sam grumbled under his breath as he did what Dean told him to do. He knew Dean rarely gave consideration to his injuries and seemed to think he was invincible when it came to infections.

"Alright, dude. I'm goin' ta bed. See ya in the mornin'."

"Night, Dean." Sam had a feeling neither of them would be sleeping much in this new, unprotected place, but he'd at least pretend to give it a try. Surprisingly, he was out half an hour later. Dean lost his fight with consciousness about ten minutes after Sam, though not before he made sure his knife was where he had left it.

Only Mrs. Prescott remained awake, waiting for her husband to come home from a long day at work. She had an important question to ask the doctor concerning the boys and their injuries… especially Dean's old scars.

TBC

Sorry it's been slow, but I promise it'll pick up in the next chapter! Please review!! There will even be a bit of bondage for PADavis. You ask and you shall receive!


	11. Howdy, Boys

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

Mrs. Prescott was jolted from her musings when she heard her husband's key in the lock. She quickly stood to meet him at the door.

"Sorry, babe. Did I wake you up?"

"Oh, no, Roger. Don't be silly. I was waiting for you."

"Oh yeah? What for?" He felt completely exhausted but always found the strength to humor his wife when he got home.

"First off, you should know we have two guests tonight."

"Really? Who?" Now his curiosity was peaked.

"Two boys from my school. One of them is my student, and the other is his older brother."

"Is it take-a-student-home-day? How did I miss that?" he jested.

"I wish it were that simple. Their father is under investigation for child abuse so I brought them here instead of letting them go through the system."

He frowned at this new bit of info. "Getting soft in your old age, huh babe?"

She smirked at him and jokingly punched him in the shoulder for the verbal jab.

"Don't forget I'm younger than you, Father Time."

"Ouch. Okay, you win! So how long are they staying with us?"

"I'm not sure just yet."

"Did he do it?"

"Do what, Roger?"

"The dad. Did he hurt the kids? I know you can read people better than anyone else I know."

"They _are_ injured, but I don't think it was the father. I met him today and he just doesn't seem like the type."

"They're hurt? In what way? Do they need medical attention?" Immediately the humor died from the air and he turned instantly back into doctor-mode.

"I hope it isn't anything _that _serious. The older boy, Dean, has deep scratches in his lower back and a horrible bruise on his left shoulder. He also apparently gets migraines and was struck with a really bad one earlier. I think he's doing better now though. The younger one, Sam, my student, has bruising all the way down his spine, almost like he was thrown against a wall or something."

"I see… And what was their explanation for these injuries?" Concern fueled his words.

"Sam said he fell down the stairs and knocked his brother into a glass table. But those gouges, Roger… They were more like claw marks from some kind of animal or weapon."

"Think maybe I should have a look at them? Maybe I can help."

"I'm not sure. Dean is very defensive and I don't want him to see us as the enemy."

"I understand. Where are they now?"

"They're both asleep in the guest room. Maybe you could have a word with them in the morning and see if you have better luck?"

"No problem. I've got the lunch shift so maybe we can all have breakfast together?"

"Sounds perfect. Thank you, Sweetie."

"That's what I'm here for, right? I'm gonna head to bed. You comin'?"

"In a minute. I want to make sure we have supplies for breakfast. I didn't get to go shopping after work today."

"I'll see you up there then."

Mrs. Prescott smiled and nodded before heading quietly into the kitchen. She could hear her husband's careful footsteps up the stairs, trying to keep them from creaking too loudly and waking their guests. She didn't see the mist of black smoke that floated down the chimney and up the stairs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean's sleep-deprived mind still had the ability to sense an unknown presence in a room. His hunter skills were always honed. He knew he was pulled back to consciousness for a reason, so he stayed perfectly still and reached out into the darkness with his trained hearing.

All he could pick up was Sam's soft snoring and an occasional creak on the wooden floor. Were those footsteps in the room, or was it just the sounds of an aging house? That was quickly answered as Dean realized the creaks were getting closer and closer to his bed. Since he was laying on his right side, he could not see the doorway behind him. He held his breath to sharpen his hearing even more and slowly began to slide his right hand up under his pillow, reaching for his knife. Something was off. He could sense it.

A cold hand ghosted over his bare, left shoulder. He hadn't bothered to pull a shirt on before collapsing into bed earlier after Sam's Doogie Howser imitation. It took everything he had not to shiver under the touch or give away the fact he was wide awake now. Just a few more inches until he could reach his knife hilt…

The hand glossed over the wound left by the rock on his shoulder, but without enough pressure to hurt. Dean knew he tensed at the touch, but hoped whoever or whatever was behind him wouldn't realize it. He was so close…

The same hand gathered up a section of cloth from Dean's blankets and began to slowly drag them down towards his waist, exposing his torn back. Enough was enough. Dean thrust his hand up the last few inches and spun, wielding his blade and spewing threats.

"Who the hell are _you_? Get your freakin' hands away from me!"

"Whoa! Easy now!" a male voice called out. Sam shot up in bed across the room looking terrified. All he could see was the outline of a tall man standing over his brother whose knife was glinting slightly from the light of the moon outside their only window.

"Dean? What's going on?" Sam whimpered.

Hurried footsteps were heard on the stairs, then the light in the guest room clicked on, blinding everyone present.

"What's going on? Roger? What are you doing in here? I though we were going to talk to them tomorrow!" Mrs. Prescott demanded. "Why did you wake them up?"

Roger stood a few feet out of Dean's reach with his hands raised in the air as if in surrender. "I just wanted to make sure it was nothing life threatening before I went to bed! Why is this kid armed?!"

Only then did Mrs. Prescott realize Dean was brandishing a knife at her husband. "Dean?! Where did you get that? Give it to me right this instant!"

"I don't think so, lady! Who the hell is this guy?"

"This is my husband, Roger. He's a doctor and I asked him to have a talk with you boys in the morning about your injuries and maybe letting him have a look, but I certainly didn't want you boys to meet him _this _way!"

Just as Dean began lowering his knife, Roger turned to look at him with glowing yellow eyes. His dad had mentioned them on multiple occasions. According to John, those eyes were the reason they became hunters. Dean paled instantly.

"Son of a…!"

Next thing he knew, the knife was soaring out of his hand and he was pinned to the mattress with unbearable amounts of pressure. He was having trouble breathing from the invisible weight on his chest.

"Dean?! Let him go!" Sam screamed, jumping out of his bed and running at 'Roger', clearly oblivious to what he actually was. Yes, he saw the knife go flying and assumed they were dealing with the supernatural, but he had no idea he was in the same room with the demon that killed his mother. The same demon that infected him when he was only six months old.

"Settle down there, Sammy. Don't want to hurt yourself, do ya?" The demon smirked and sent Sam flying back to his own mattress and pinning him down as well. Both boys were struggling, but to no avail.

"How…? What…? What are you doing? Roger?" Mrs. Prescott was terrified. She had never seen her husband act like this before, let alone have telekinetic powers.

"Mrs. Prescott, run! He's not your husb…!" Dean tried but suddenly found his oxygen closed off. He struggled to draw in a breath but it was as though a vice was wrapped around his throat.

"Ah ah ah, Deano… No need to give away the big finale!" With a jerk of his head, Mrs. Prescott flew across the room and ricocheted off the far wall, crumpling into a heap on the floor, unconscious.

"Leave her alone!" Sam cried out, trying to lift his head enough to see if his teacher was okay or not. It was thrust harshly back into the pillow, making him yelp at the sudden pressure on the lump that hadn't healed yet.

As Dean's struggling began to diminish, the demon released his grip on his throat and the boy dragged in a deep, painful breath. His lungs were screaming in protest.

"Howdy boys. Long time, no see."

"Who are you?" Sam demanded. _Those eyes… They meant something… but what?_ "What do you want?"

"Oh, your parents and I go way back, Sammy…"

"You killed our mom, you bastard!" Dean raged. Sam's jaw dropped. He was the yellow-eyed demon dad talked about with Dean and Bobby before!

"Daddy tell you that?" the demon taunted.

"He didn't have to. I remember you," Dean hissed back.

"Really? I'm impressed, kid. You were very young when we first met…"

"I was four, you son-of-a-bitch…"

"Now, now… No need to cuss in front of a lady… But I must say, I've missed you boys."

"Sorry, guess we forgot to write," Dean growled.

"Funny, Dean. I like your style."

"Forgive me if I don't take that as a compliment."

Mrs. Prescott was stirring. She sat bolt upright and was instantly pinned to the wall behind her. Dean's eyes were drawn to the frightened teacher who was clueless as to what was going on.

"Let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"You're right, she doesn't. But what would be the fun of that? Really, I'm doin' you boys a favor. It's gonna be hard for her to blame John now, isn't it?"

"You really expect me to believe you're doin' this outta the kindness of your heart?!"

"My dear boy, I've been waiting years to stop by, but daddy has been keeping a close eye on you kids. Every place you stay, he sets up wards against me and mine. But here, you're free game. So I figured I'd say hello."

"What do you want?" Sam trembled.

"I was just checking up on you, Sammy. You've grown."

"Stay away from him," Dean warned in his most dangerous big brother voice.

"You're a little possessive, Deano, don'tcha think? That can't be healthy."

"Like you give a shit…"

"Again with the language… How much do you _really _remember of that night, boy? I'm sure the Teach over here would love to hear all about it."

A look of horror and confusion passed over Mrs. Prescott's face as she turned her head from her 'husband' to Dean.

"Dean? What is he talking about? Was he involved with the car crash?"

"Car crash?! Is that really the best you could come up with, Dean? I'm disappointed in you."

"Shut up."

"I'd love to see you make me. In fact, let's give it a go, shall we?"

"My pleasure…"

With that, Dean found he was no longer held down to the mattress. He surged up, perhaps faster than he should have, and squared up with the demon.

"Dean, don't!" Sam cried out in terror.

"Quiet, Sam. I've been waiting to do this for a long time… Bring it on, you bastard…"

"He's not going to let you win!" Sam shouted out in warning.

"Are you suggesting I would cheat, Sammy Boy? I'm hurt. Tell you what, if Dean here can get within striking distance of me, I'll let you all go and never darken your doorstep again. Fair enough?"

"Don't fall for it, Dean! He's gonna tear you to shreds!"

"Game on, boy. Make your first move…"

Dean weighed his options. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. He was a Winchester after all. He wouldn't leave Sam and Mrs. Prescott alone with the damn thing either. He only had one choice as far as he was concerned, and that was to fight.

He began to circle to the left, the demon matching him step for step. He could see the knife on the other side of the room. All he had to do was continue circling until he made it within reaching distance. But would the demon be that stupid? He sure as hell hoped so.

"We just gonna wear a hole in the rug, or are you going to put the fear of God into me? Excuse the pun… Maybe you need a bit more prodding. How much do you remember, Deano? Do you remember how loudly your mom screamed as I sliced her open? Do you remember your dad's only concern was to get your brother out of the house? He didn't even give a damn about you back then. Tell me Mrs. Prescott, does that count as child abuse?"

"Shut up, damn it!" Dean was starting to lose his focus. He knew the demon was only egging him on so he'd screw up. He refused to let it get the better of him that easily.

"What I don't get is why you chose a car crash? There are plenty of more creative ways to kill off a loved one, unless of course, you were writing the story to suite your own needs… I did manage to see all those scars on your back before you flipped out. It's quite the assortment. Daddy give them to you?"

"You already know the answer to that," Dean growled. Just a few more steps…

The demon suddenly stopped and changed direction, walking back towards Dean who was forced to retreat and continue circling in a counter-clockwise motion. _Damn it! So close!_

"He certainly played a role, didn't he? Sure, he may not have taken a belt or knife to you, but he threw you out in the line of fire just the same. Hell, you've been his bait for more than half of his hunts. I feel the love, don't you?"

"I said shut up!" Dean was fuming now. It was hard to see the knife through the haze of red.

"Or you'll what? Keep walking in circles until we get dizzy? I'm terrified now…"

"You'll get what's comin' to you sooner or later. I'll make sure of it."

"Before or after I recruit Sammy?"

With a yell of fury, Dean threw himself at the demon. It was taken aback by his brazenness, but simply side-stepped and flicked his wrist, sending Dean into a picture frame on the wall. It shattered behind him and shards of glass rained to the floor all around him.

"I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that earlier? Sammy and I have a sort of… connection. He's gonna be part of my army in a few years. You learn how to fight better and I might just let you tag along to the so-called _dark side_."

Dean was so angry that he barely felt the shards pierce through the soles of his feet and palms as he pushed himself up and ran at the demon a second time.

Again, he was deflected but this time, towards the bed. He caught the wooden corner of the foot of the bed in the middle of his back and gave a yelp as searing pain shot up and down his spine. He crumpled to the floor once again.

"Stop it! You're hurting him!" Sam screamed.

"What the hell are you?! Leave the poor boy alone!" Mrs. Prescott yelled. Both of them were still painfully pinned down, completely useless to help Dean.

Dean groaned and rolled slowly onto his stomach, trying to muster enough energy to make a third attack. He began to pull his arms underneath himself and push up, his limbs shaking with the strain.

"Dean, just stay down already! You've made your point!" Sam hissed.

"Not… Yet…" Dean huffed out and finally managed to push himself somewhat upright.

"I could do this all day, kid. And then what? You'll have failed your family yet again. That's gotta sting a little, huh? I'm tired of this… Game over." The demon walked briskly up to Dean and grabbed him by the hair, straining his neck back so Dean was forced to look at him. "You always were worthless… Night, Dean."

The demon snapped his fingers and Dean screamed in pain before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.

TBC

You know what to do! Sorry this chapter took so long! I need your ideas!! I've started a little question game between the demon and Dean in the next chapter, but I need more questions!! What could the demon torment Dean with? Dean will have to answer truthfully to keep Sam and Mrs. Prescott unharmed. What would you like an answer to? Thanks a bunch!!


	12. Only Just Begun

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"Dean! What did you do to him?!" Sam demanded.

"He was starting to bore me. Now I can work easier. Upsidaisy…" The demon bent down and lifted Dean's lifeless body into his arms. "You two, follow me." As the demon's eyes glowed brighter, Sam and his teacher were forced to their feet and glided slowly behind him, a few inches off the ground.

He brought all three of them into the kitchen, then dropped Dean like a bag of potatoes into one of the kitchen chairs. He then guided Sam and Mrs. Prescott into two other chairs.

Ropes manifested around their wrists, tying them behind their backs, around their ankles which were tied to the legs of the chairs, and around their chests, clamping them to the backs of each seat.

"That's better. Less straining on my powers. Now… Where was I?"

"Where's my husband?" Mrs. Prescott shouted, shocked at her own nerve.

"Why, Baby, I _am _your husband. Don't you recognize me?"

A single tear fell from her eye as she glared back at him. "What are you?"

"Interesting question. Sammy here could answer that one…"

"He's a demon, Mrs. Prescott," Sam stated softly, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him.

"A what?!"

"That's what my family does. We hunt these sons-of-bitches for a living. That's why we couldn't tell you how we got hurt. No one would believe us if we tried."

"Oh, Sam…" He cringed at the pity in her voice.

"You know, Teach, if you hadn't noticed Sam's injuries, I wouldn't have been able to get to the boys. John keeps them protected like Fort Knox. Thanks for your help. And because of you, the one person who might be able to save them isn't allowed anywhere near this house. It was all way too easy to be honest."

"What did you do to my brother?!" Sam broke in, repeating his previous question as he glanced at Dean who had yet to move a muscle. He was slumped awkwardly against his bonds, the course ropes digging into his bare torso and wrists. Sam fought hard against his own ropes, trying to get to his brother's side.

"You want him to wake up? Oh, what the hell… Let's wake him up." The demon smirked and snapped his fingers. Dean's head shot up off his chest and he glanced around blearily, grimacing against the pain in his body.

He had no idea what happened to him. Last he remembered there was fire coursing through his veins and his head felt like it was going to explode.

"Sammy?" Dean called out, not having his vision focused just yet.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam responded quickly, holding back his relief just in case his brother said no.

"Where are we? What happened?" Clearly, Dean was ignoring Sam's question. _That's never a good sign._

"Mornin', Deano. Welcome back to the party."

Dean jumped slightly as soon as he recognized the voice. He had really hoped this dude had left by now. He tried to bring his hand up to his pounding head but realized there were ropes around him, preventing any movement.

"Dean, Dean, Dean… What am I going to do with you?" Dean did not like the gleam in the demon's eyes.

"Untying me would be a great start so I can kill your ass…"

The demon laughed, sending chills down everyone's spines. "That'll be the day. When are you going to accept the fact your family is never going to win against me?"

"Denial. You know, that's stage one."

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you, Deano? Then again, with _your_ life who could blame you?"

Every crack against Dean and his family was making the elder Winchester more and more uncomfortable. For one thing, it knew _way_ too much about them, and for another, he was giving Mrs. Prescott a lot of fuel to take them away from their father. Who could blame her with the childhood they were forced into?

"There's nothing wrong with my life," Dean spat back in defense.

"Oh dear… I believe that's both denial _and_ anger. And guess what, kid… Anger is stage two."

"Bite me."

"Not right now, thanks."

A muscle in Dean's jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, biting back retorts.

"Now that I finally have you boys, what should I do? So many options…"

Dean gaped as his knife slowly flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, stopping just in front of the demon who grinned menacingly.

"It seems I have a little problem, Deano. I've got a toy, but who should I share it with first? I think I'll leave it up to you."

Dean was getting desperate. "Look, just let Sam and the Prescotts go and I'll do whatever you want."

"Dean, don't!" Sam yelled. Mrs. Prescott's eyes widened at the proposal as an innate need to protect the children came flooding to the surface.

"Don't you touch one hair on his head!" she demanded.

"Oh… Feisty. I like this one. What do you say we start with her?" The knife slowly floated towards her, stopping just shy of her throat.

"NO! Please! Leave her alone!" Dean screamed in protest. "Use me!"

"My, my… Are we bargaining now, Dean? Sounds like stage three…"

Dean bit his tongue, refusing to give the demon what it wanted.

"It's your choice, Dean. But you can't pick yourself. That's no fun, and it's too predictable."

The knife soared back and forth between Mrs. Prescott and Sam a few times, then it settled on Sam.

"Time's tickin', kid. If you don't choose, I will."

"Don't make me do this," Dean half pleaded, half demanded.

"Time's up."

"NO!"

The knife slid down to Sam's chest, nestling between two of his ribs, and slowly carved a thin line through his soft skin, following the curve of the bones. Sam hissed in pain and tried to jerk away from the knife, but there was no give in the bonds.

"Ah! Dean!" Sam always relied on Dean to protect him and make everything okay. Though he was scared now, he hadn't given up hope that his brother would save the day. He always did.

"Stop it!" Dean screamed, fighting ten times harder against his bonds. He could feel his own blood slicking up the ropes around his wrists.

The knife inched back, then moved up to the corner of Sam's right eye. The youngest Winchester let out a small whimper, keeping his head perfectly still but darting his eyes back and forth between the demon and his brother.

Dean swallowed audibly. "Please, don't do this… I'll do anything you want, but please don't hurt him."

"Hmm…. Anything I want, huh? That's quite the proposition, Deano."

Dean's defiance had been replaced with fear for his brother's life, and he would do whatever it took to protect him.

"Please. Just let 'im go."

"Let's play a little game, shall we? I control the knife, and if you don't want me to inflict pain on your brother or his teacher, you'll answer my questions truthfully. If I run out of questions, they remain unharmed. If you lie to me, they get what's coming to them. Do we have a deal?"

"What kind of questions?" Dean asked wearily. _This can't be good…_

"I asked if we had a deal…" The knife pressed harder against Sam's skin, piercing it enough to cause a small drop of blood to rise to the surface. Sam squeezed his eyes shut in terror, forcing a few teardrops he had been holding back to leak from the sides. The salt water stung his new cut.

"Yes, damn it! We have a deal, okay? Back off of him!"

"This should be interesting… Prescott, you might want to start taking notes…" He smirked at the frightened woman.

"Roger, please don't do this…" she pleaded.

"Roger doesn't have a choice. He's trapped with me in his own meatsuit."

The knife soared to the middle of the floor, spun around a few times, then flew over to Mrs. Prescott's left cheek. She did everything she could to put on a brave face in front of the boys she was supposed to be protecting.

"Let's start easy, shall we? Question number one… What did you want to be when you grew up? You know, before your dad took your chance for a real life away…"

"It was _your_ fault, not his!"

"Wrong answer…" The knife slid across Mrs. Prescott's cheek, luckily not digging in too deep. She bit down on her lip hard as she felt her own blood dripping down her face.

"Okay, okay! A fireman! Stop!"

"That's more like it." He had the knife pull itself back out and return to the center of the room. Once again, it spun, then flew to Sam's forearm.

"You've given up everything for your family, haven't you? Including your own future."

"It was never my life to begin with."

"Says who?"

Dean's eyes flicked over to Mrs. Prescott who met his gaze, then jerked back to glare at the demon.

"Says me."

"Wrong again." The demon smiled gleefully as the knife sliced through Sam's arm. Dean watched in horror as his little brother tried to break away from the searing pain and his blood began to drip onto the floor by his bare feet.

Sam whimpered and turned instantly to Dean with those puppy dog eyes, begging his big brother to make it stop. Dean felt that very same knife piercing his heart as he was helpless to stop Sam's torment.

"Please leave him alone…" Dean begged.

The demon waltzed over to Sam and ruffled his hair. "Aw, Sammy can take it, can't cha, Sport?"

Trying to stay tough, Sam nodded, gritting his teeth to control the pain.

"Besides, we've only just begun, Deano."

TBC

Sorry this took so long! Please review! And I'm still open to questions for Dean if you've got some!!


	13. Welcome to the Party

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"Hey, Bobby. Thanks for gettin' here so fast."

"What'd you think I was gonna do, John? Stroll over here? Not when our boys are concerned."

"_Our_ boys, huh?" John repeated, smirking at his friend.

"Damn right, and if you've got a problem with that, I'm willin' to take it outside after we've found them."

John shook his head in amusement. Leave it to Bobby to cheer him up at a time like this. "No problem here."

"Glad to hear it, now let's go pick 'em up."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Now… Where was I? Ah, yes… Why am I having all the fun? Mrs. Prescott, I'm sure you've got loads of questions at this point. Would you care to ask the next one?"

Mrs. Prescott wisely shook her head no, glaring at this horrid creature that was inhabiting her husband.

"No? And here I thought you cared about my boys."

"We're _not _your boys," Dean growled.

"Touchy. You're as good as. Hell, at this point, I've probably treated you both better than your own father has!"

"That's not true! You're not even half the man my father is!"

"You must really learn to control that temper of yours, boy. Let's have it your way then. Dean, I've got my next question."

"Go to hell."

"Perhaps I should take Sammy with me?" The demon gripped Sam's hair tightly and pulled his head back at a painful angle, exposing his throat to the newly positioned knife. It watched excitedly as ever muscle in Dean's body tensed at the threat.

"Ask your god damn question and let Sam go!"

"Knew you had it in you. My next question is… Has John ever hit you before?"

Silence fell over the room. Sam managed to tilt his head to bring his brother back within his sights and saw the fire burning in his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow.

"I know a lot of guys named John. It's a popular name. You'll have to be more specific," Dean retorted at last.

Why was Dean hedging around this question? The answer was _obviously_ no. That's what this whole debacle with child services was about after all. John never laid a hand on either of his boys. Did he?

"Don't try me, boy. Not when your brother's life is at stake. Answer the question."

Dean's defiant eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding Sam's.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, concern evident in the one word. Mrs. Prescott was gaping like a fish out of water. Could she have been wrong about Mr. Winchester?

"Yes," Dean replied dejectedly.

"Sorry, didn't catch that. Try again?"

"I said yes," Dean hissed, locking daring eyes on the demon who smirked back.

"Yes… What?"

"Yes, dad hit me before," Dean mumbled out.

"I thought that's what you said. Good boy."

Sam was dumbfounded. After all the praise and hero-worshiping Dean did for their father, this was how he was repaid? The demon released Sam's hair and the knife floated back into the middle of the room.

"Sammy, I believe you've got the next question. Floor's yours."

Sam would have chosen to take this up with Dean in private once the demon was banished back to hell, but as the knife flew over to his teacher, he knew he didn't have a choice.

"When, Dean? Why'd he do it?" Dean cringed at his brother's obvious anger towards their father and no doubt himself for not having been there to protect Dean.

"Few years ago. Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. You were really young, so you probably don't remember. Dad put me in charge of protecting you and I blew it, and he made sure I knew that."

"So, Teach, still think John's a good guy?" the demon said in a sing song voice, clearly happy with itself.

"My dad _is_ a good guy! I swear it! I deserved what I got and because of it, I never slipped up again. It wasn't child abuse!"

"I don't believe I was talking to you, Deano."

"Screw you."

"Such language! Quick-fire bonus round… Do you really think you can protect your brother from me?" The demon knew Sam was counting on his brother to save him as always, and knew the truth about Dean's helplessness because of it.

"No."

"Correct!"

A few more tears dribbled down Sam's cheeks at his brother's admission. "Yes you can, Dean! You always win!"

"Not always, Sammy. I'm sorry. I tried."

"But, Dean…"

Sam was silenced immediately as the knife flew back to his throat. Dean instantly tensed again, wishing their dad would come barging through the door to save them. What was taking him so long? He always saved the day before things got out of hand, no matter what the obstacles.

"Hey, Deano… Did you ever blame Sammy here for your mother's death?"

Both brothers gaped at the demon, then at each other.

"No! Never!"

"You're lying…" The knife floated back towards Sam and Dean started shouting out in panic.

"No, I'm not! It was never Sam's fault! If anything, it was mine!"

"Really? How so?"

"I knew you were there, you son of a bitch! I heard you before you killed her, and I knew you weren't really dad cause he was still downstairs watchin' TV. I knew somethin' was wrong, and I chose to hide in my room rather than call for help. I screwed up, okay?! You should've died then and there, but I didn't have the guts to take you on."

"Dean, you were four!" Sam shouted back, enraged that his brother had been carrying all this needless guilt for so long. "You would have just gotten yourself killed!"

"You don't know that!" Dean shot back.

"Yeah, Dean, I do! If you can blame yourself, I can blame myself too! After all, she _did _die in _my_ room, over _my _crib!"

"Don't, Sammy! It's not your fault. You were only six months old! I think I had a better chance of fightin' back!"

"Dear me… Sounds like I brought up a sensitive subject…"

Both boys jumped at the demon's words, having forgotten he was there during their spat.

"Are you catching all of this, Teach? Didn't know these boys so well before today, did you?"

"Leave them alone! They've had enough! Don't you have a heart?"

"That's the most ridiculous question I've heard so far!" the demon laughed. "Now where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah yes. Have you ever stolen a car before, Dean?"

Dean stared at his knees, losing the strength to keep up his fight. With every question the demon was cutting a hole in his already damaged heart. Dean could actually feel the demon taking thoughts from his very own head to use against him, and he was helpless to stop it.

"Yes."

"Who taught you how to do it?"

"My dad."

"He's also taught you to lie, use fake IDs, and commit credit card scams as well, hasn't he?"

"We don't have a choice! Hunting isn't exactly a payin' gig!"

"Your dad has made you into quite the juvenile delinquent, wouldn't you agree Mrs. Prescott?"

"Please just let them be," she whimpered as her eyes stayed locked on the rotating knife just feet from her.

"Let them be? I'm doing your job here! I'm giving you all the answers you wanted on a platter!"

"This is _not _what I wanted, so don't put this on me!" she spat back, making both of the boys' jaws drop to the floor.

"Well helllooo Mrs. Prescott! I wish half the people I've killed had that kind of fire. Would have made it a bit more interesting…"

"You sadistic son-of-a…" Dean was forced to grit his teeth together as an unimaginable pain erupted throughout his skull. It felt as though his migraine had intensified ten-fold. There was fire burning through his veins and up his spinal cord. When it reached an excruciating peak, he couldn't hold back the scream that was torn from his throat.

"Dean! What are you doing to him! Stop, please!" Sam pleaded with demon, horror-filled eyes locked on his agonized brother.

"Oh, nothing new. I've been responsible for his migraines ever since we met on your half birthday, Sammy."

"You? You've been causing his headaches?!"

"It's always created such a nice distraction, dontcha think? Every time John gets a little too close for comfort, Dean gets bed-ridden. Haven't you noticed before?"

"I thought it was just coincidence."

"Bet your dad figured it out after the first few times. That never stopped him from hunting me though, did it? Guess he cares more about the hunt than Deano here, huh?" With that, the demon waved his hand and Dean stopped screaming. He slumped against his binds, panting heavily and trying to regain control of the pain as he blinked away tears.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam whispered, his lower lip trembling at the sight of his brother's tears.

Dean merely nodded, afraid if he opened his mouth he would throw up.

"Sounds like daddy's got a lot of explaining to do." The demon tilted his head as though listening intently, then a smile spread across his face. "Ah, right on time, Johnny Boy. Welcome to the party!"

TBC

Sorry it took so long. Been really busy! Reviews? Please?


	14. Mind Games

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

As Dean strained his ears to hear past the pounding of his own heart, he could hear an approaching vehicle. More specifically, the Impala's engine. He'd recognize it anywhere.

While John and Bobby were creeping towards the house, John was hit with a strong feeling that something was off. He knew instantly his boys were in trouble. He motioned to Bobby who nodded immediately and they each stepped to one side of the door, framing it.

John held up three fingers and counted down. As he reached the last digit, he moved in front of the door and kicked it open, then stormed inside, guns blazing, and took the right side of the house while Bobby took the left.

The second the door swung open, Dean tried to shout a warning to his father, but the demon cut off his air supply with an invisible grip around his throat. His eyes darted to his little brother to find that Sam was getting the same treatment, as was his teacher.

The pressure didn't last long, however. The moment John came within sight, the demon had him thrown roughly into the opposite wall, followed closely by Bobby who came running at the sound of the crash.

"Oh, this is just too easy. All three remaining Winchesters, and dear old Bobby Singer. Priceless." With another wave of its hand, the two men were lifted off the floor and slammed back-first into the wall and held there painfully. "Might as well stay and enjoy the show. We're playing my own version of truth or dare. Got another one for ya, Deano. Is your dad an obsessed son-of-a-bitch when it comes to hunting?"

Dean glared at the demon with everything he had left. "Don't do this."

"You better answer quickly, Dean. I've got plenty of contestants to fulfill the dare portion with now." The knife continued to rotate as it flew in a circle around the room, pausing in front of each captive for a few seconds before continuing to the next one. It stopped in front of their dad. "Answer truthfully or he loses a finger…"

"Yes, damn you. He's obsessed when it comes to hunting."

"Hear that, John? Even your number one soldier admits it!" The demon sauntered over into John's personal space.

"Let everyone else go. This is between you and me."

"John, John, John… We both know that isn't true! You dragged your boys into this life the second you picked up a rifle and handed it to your son. And when was that? Third grade?"

"He needed to learn to protect himself from the likes of you!"

"Try and justify it all you want, Johnny, but the fact is, you and you alone destroyed their childhood. And if they get killed on a hunt, it's on your shoulders. But what about you, John? Got any questions for Deano? Bet he doesn't tell you everything. Wanna ask him if he's still a virgin?" Dean blushed profusely from the chest up at that one, making his father raise his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "Oh! Or how about what's your greatest wish, Dean? Not for Sam, not for your dad… Just you. Yeah, I like that one. What _is _your greatest dream?"

"To kill you myself," Dean growled out.

"Uh uh uh… Try again."

Dean dropped his gaze once again to his knees as the knife made its way over to his father. "To have my dad need me back. To love me." He didn't even bother trying to hold back the tears of shame anymore. Each drop tore at his brother's heart who was quick to try and console him.

"He does, Dean! God, we _both_ do and always will!"

"I didn't say it was your turn to speak, Samuel."

"Can't you see what you're doing to him?! Just stop already! What do you want from us?!"

"Temper, temper! That is such a loaded question… But I'm the one asking them here, not you. Dean? What was the last thing your mom ever said to you? Do you remember?"

"No." Dean winced at how quickly he spit out the lie. The demon smirked again.

"Yes you do."

"What's it matter?"

"Humor me."

"You're not all that funny to be honest."

"Answer now or Sammy gets hurt."

"She told me angels were watching out for us."

"You believe that?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. How about you, Sammy? You believe in angels?"

"Sure, I guess. I mean, I know there's evil, so why can't there be good too?"

"Touching sentiments. What about you, John?"

"Go to hell."

"Been there, thanks. Don't plan on goin' back anytime soon. Answer the question."

"Or what exactly?"

"Or your kids pay the price…"

With the flick of the demon's hand, Dean cried out and tensed up as unbearable pain ricocheted through his skull.

"Stop it! Dad, answer the question!" Sam screamed, watching his brother fighting against the pain, trying desperately not to let the demon use him as leverage against his own father.

"Why the hell do you even care, you son-of-a-bitch? Is this all just a game for you?"

"Better answer quick, John, cause even I've gotta admit Dean's head must hurt like a bitch right now."

"Leave him alone!" John looked desperately to his eldest son whose nose was starting to bleed. His face was tightly pinched with pain, but he was biting down on his tongue to hold in the agony threatening to burst free of him.

"Time's ticking…"

"Alright! I'd like to believe it, but I don't think I can. Now let him be!"

The demon released its mental grip on Dean who slumped against his bonds, panting harshly. A small sob escaped his lips before he could contain it.

"See what you made me do, Johnny Boy? You're not very good at this game."

"Game's over. Let's end this thing."

"I don't think it's up to you, Bucko. Bobby, you got anything to contribute to our little game? Bet you don't believe in angels, do you? Not after what you did to your wife…"

"Don't you talk about her!" Bobby spit back, his concern for Dean quickly morphing into a deep hatred of the demon.

"You people make this too easy." The demon grinned broadly, then strutted over to Dean's still panting form. "Still hangin' in there, kiddo?"

Dean refused to give it the satisfaction of an answer. He kept his head down to prevent the blood from running into his mouth. Yellow-eyes placed two fingers against Dean's carotid artery, relishing in his racing heart rate. "Do you think you're a good person, Dean?"

Dean lifted his chin slightly to shoot the demon a questioning look. "Wha'?"

"You heard me. In that messed up head of yours, do you truly believe you're a good person?"

"Yes?"

The demon smirked. "You're lying again." It jacked up Dean's migraine once again, then while keeping his two fingers to the boy's throat, he used his other hand to pull Dean's head back roughly by his hair. "Look me in the eye and tell me the truth!"

"Damn it, leave my boy alone!" John struggled harder against the invisible hold on his body, longing to kill the demon and get to his son's side.

"I'm waiting, Deano…"

"No," Dean grit out through clenched teeth. The demon released his head, which fell back to his chest. A lone tear trickled down his cheek at the admission.

"Sounds like we've reached stage four, don't you think? Depression's a bitch."

"Stop screwin' with the boy's head!" Bobby shouted, clearly still pissed off.

"Or what, Bobby? What could you possibly do to stop me?"

"We'll find a way to send you back where you belong. Make no mistake."

Keeping his yellow eyes locked with Bobby's heated gaze, he sent another question over his shoulder.

"Final question of the night, Dean. Would you willingly sell your soul to me right here, right now, if I promised to let everyone else go unharmed?"

All eyes were locked on Dean's watery green eyes. They were filled with pain and anguish.

"Yes."

"Dean, no!" Sam screamed in horror.

"Don't you dare!" John warned both his son and the demon at once.

"You little…" Bobby hissed.

Mrs. Prescott gasped, wondering if that was even a possibility or not at this point.

"Are you sure you're willing to die for them? To burn in the fires of hell for all eternity, just to let them keep living their miserable lives?"

"I'd die for every single one of them, any time, any day." There was such resolution in his voice that everyone in the room, demon excluded, were taken aback.

"Score! Sounds like acceptance to me! I think it's safe to say you're grieving, kid. You've completed all five stages in less than a day. Congratulations, you're officially one of the most screwed up people I've ever met. You'll make a great leader for my army some day."

"Wait, you're what? What the hell are you talkin'…" Dean began, looking alarmed.

"Oops. Spoiled the punch-line… Oh well, nasty habit. Let's just say I look forward to seeing you again in a few years,, Deano."

"I'd never help you!"

"Believe me, you won't have much of a choice. Anyway, I think I've done enough damage for one night. I'll say hi to your wives, shall I?" he asked John and Bobby, both of whom scowled back. "Right then. Ta ta for now. And see you boys _real _soon." With one final wink, black smoke began to rise out of Mr. Prescott's mouth, swirled around on the ceiling for a few seconds, then disappeared up the chimney into the cold night air.

Bobby and John fell heavily to the floor as the demon's hold was released.

TBC

Reviews? Purty please?


	15. Protector of the Innocent

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story. 

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy! 

"Boys! Are you alright?" John called out, forcing himself back up on his feet. He paused in front of them both, wondering which one to help first.

"Get Sammy…" Dean slurred, barely awake now that the danger had finally passed.

"No! Dad, help Dean! He's hurt really bad! I'm fine!"

Making a split-second decision, John began untying Sam, keeping an eye on Dean as he worked. If the demon returned, Sam was still its most valuable player, and therefore John's number one concern. 

Bobby rose stiffly to his feet and made his way over to Mrs. Prescott, untying her. Once she and Sam were free, Sam darted to his brother's side and John waved Bobby over.

"Bobby, give me a hand here, would ya?" Between the three of them, they had Dean untied and cradled in his father's arms within minutes. Mrs. Prescott ran to her fallen husband's side crying. After the smoke had poured from his mouth, his body collapsed to the ground and hadn't stirred since.

Bobby moved over to the Prescotts and informed the worried wife that her husband was going to be just fine.

"Dean? You still with us, son?" John asked softly, running his fingers through his boy's hair.

Dean's eyelids fluttered as he tried to stay conscious while the overwhelming exhaustion consumed him.

"You're safe now, kiddo. Rest if you need it."

"But dad… He might have a concussion!" Sam argued.

"We'll keep an eye on him, Sam."

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, not being able to get his eyes to focus on his brother or his father.

"I'm right here, Dean." Sam placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, bro. I'm fine."

"Good." With that, Dean let the darkness take over and relaxed back into his father's strong arms.

John lifted his boy off the floor and carried him to the front door. "Sam, pack up your stuff, and your brother's. We're going home." He shot a daring look at Mrs. Prescott, willing her to disagree so he could vent some of his pent up anger, but instead she nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I'm coming with you," she stated clearly. "My husband too. I want to know everything."

"Lady, you couldn't _begin_ to understand everything. I've been doin' this for eleven years now, and I still don't understand everything."

"If you don't take us too, I'll call the cops right now."

"And tell them what exactly? You were attacked by a demon? Cause believe me, that doesn't go over very well with the authorities."

"Please, John. I just… I need some clarification."

After a long pause, John turned to Bobby. "Put Roger in the back." Then he turned back to Mrs. Prescott. "The two of you can sit with the boys. Bobby'll take shotgun. We're goin' to the hotel I've been stayin' at. We'll be able to patch you both up there."

"Thank you."

"Let's get a move on. I don't want to be caught here if the damn thing decides to make a reappearance."

With that, John carried his son outside and placed him in the backseat. Once he had him buckled securely, he ran his hand gently over his son's head and down to his neck, giving a protective squeeze before jogging a few steps back towards the house to help Bobby carried Mr. Prescott the last few feet to the Impala.

Sam came running back down the stairs with their bags in hand and crawled in next to his brother, laying his head gently on his shoulder. Mrs. Prescott was squished in between her husband and Sam. Thankfully, the boys were really skinny and didn't take up much space.

Bobby clambered into the passenger seat, and John started her up with a loud growl of the engine. Then they were speeding down the street towards safety.

Not long after, John pulled into a parking spot right outside his door. Tossing the room key to Sam, he quickly scooped up Dean once again and carried him to the bed farthest from the door.

Mr. Prescott was starting to stir, so his wife and Bobby stayed nearby to welcome him back to consciousness.

"Roger? Baby?"

"Hmm… Wha?"

"Sweetie, wake up for me, please."

"Wha' happened?" he groaned, placing a hand to his throbbing head.

"It's a long story. We're at a hotel room with the boys' family. Do you remember meeting them at all?"

"I don't think so. I remember saying good night to you and heading up the stairs. I don't think I ever made it to our room though."

"Can you walk? We should get you inside."

With his wife's and Bobby's help, Mr. Prescott made his way shakily into the room and sat on the other bed when John motioned to it for him.

"I know you probably feel like crap right now, but trust me, it'll pass soon," John reassured the man.

"Good to know. I'm sorry… Who are you?"

"That's John Winchester, the boys' father. The boy asleep is Dean and his brother sitting next to him is Sam, and this is…" She motioned to Bobby, but he interrupted.

"Bobby Singer's the name. I'm a friend of the family."

"Nice to meet you all. Could someone please tell me what happened?"

"In short, you were possessed," Bobby replied.

"Possessed? Come on… That's not… That can't really…"

"Can and does pretty often actually," John jumped in. Bobby continued to explain what had happened to the scared couple while John retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom and made his way over to his sons' bed. "Alright Sammy, I want a detailed report on injuries received, for both of you."

"I'm fine, dad. Help Dean."

"That wasn't a suggestion, Sam."

"Fine! I just have two cuts, one on my arm and one between my ribs. Other than that, he didn't touch me. Dean… Well it's pretty obvious where he's hurt. There's blood everywhere. I think he might have some glass in his hands and feet from a shattered picture frame which he broke with his back and head, his nose was bleeding from the migraines but you already knew that, his wrists are all rubbed raw from the ropes, and all the injuries he got from the wendigos probably hurt like hell by now."

"That everything?"

"I think so."

"Good boy. Let's get you patched up first. Let me see that arm."

John took a close look at the cut and determined it wouldn't need any stitches. He rubbed anti-bacterial cream over it and held it closed with butterfly bandages.

"Alright. Lift your shirt."

"Dad… It's okay, really!"

"Now, Sam."

With a heavy sigh, Sam did as he was told and winced when his father prodded the ribs surrounding the knife wound. "Kiddo, this one is really deep. I think we're gonna have to close it to prevent infection."

"But dad…!"

"It's gotta be done, son. Lay down next to your brother and I'll get it over with as quickly as possible. I promise."

Tears welled in Sam's eyes and he started shaking. He HATED needles. He wished his brother would wake up and hold him. It always seemed less painful when he did. But Dean still hadn't moved since he was placed on the bed.

Sam let his shirt drop back down again. He carefully took hold of his brother's forearm and pulled it out to the side, snuggling in between it and Dean's warm body like a cocoon.

He buried his face in his brother's ribs so he wouldn't have to watch his father preparing the needle and thread. He could hear Bobby's deep voice talking a few feet away but he wasn't paying much attention to the words.

When Bobby glanced over and realized what John was preparing to do, he paused in his explanation. He knew about Sam's fear of needles. Both boys shared it, but Dean hid it better. "John, you need some help over there?" he offered.

"Yeah, I might need your assistance in a minute if you've got a sec."

Bobby excused himself and made his way over to the boys' bed and sat down on Sam's other side. "Hey, kid. It's gonna be okay."

Sam just nodded into his brother's shirt, refusing to open his mouth. When John nodded that he was ready, Bobby placed his hands firmly on Sam's shoulders to prevent him from wriggling too much.

Mrs. Prescott's mouth fell open when she caught on. She remembered Helen asking John about his patching techniques and his lack of using anesthesia. This seemed horribly cruel, but after what she had just experienced, she could see that sometimes there wasn't much choice.

John carefully lifted Sam's shirt again until the wound was exposed. Then with Bobby holding his son still, he began stitching Sam back together. Occasional whimpers escaped the boy's lips but John didn't stop. When he was halfway across, Sam couldn't take it anymore. He fought with everything he had against Bobby's restraining hands and screamed out in pain.

Next thing he knew, there was an additional hand wrapped tightly around him. He was so startled that he froze in his struggles.

"Back off and leave him alone!" Dean shouted in anger at Bobby and his father.

"Dean, he needs to be patched up…" John started.

"Give him a second! Sammy, look at me kiddo… It's okay. Just relax…"

As Dean worked to calm his distraught brother, Bobby and John backed off a few steps. Their father was in awe at how close a bond his boys had forged. Even after all these years, it never failed to amaze him. Dean had forced his way out of the darkness to protect his brother when he heard his cries. And all Sam needed to calm down was to hear his brother's soothing voice.

"Alright, Sammy… Dad needs to finish, but he's only got a few left to go." With the little strength he had regained from his short siesta, Dean levered himself up against the headboard, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and back when they connected with the hard wood. He pulled his brother close to him and wrapped a loving arm around his upper chest. Sam instantly latched his hands around his brother's arm. Then Dean nodded to his father who moved back in to work.

Dean soothed away every wince and whimper the John forced out of the boy. Bobby stroked his hand through the kid's long, messy hair in comfort, no longer needed to restrain Sam.

John quickly tied off the last stitch, spread ointment over the wound, then taped down a gauze patch. Sam let out a shuddering sigh of relief.

"You did good, bud," Dean said gently, giving him a one-armed hug and leaning his cheek against Sam's head. Sam snuggled even further into Dean's chest. John didn't fail to notice that Dean's eyelids were drooping again. Once he knew Sam was okay, he was retreating into the darkness again to avoid his own pain.

John turned to Bobby. "Can you patch up Mrs. Prescott's cheek for me? I'll take care of Dean."

"You got it."

Bobby moved off to do as he was asked while John contemplated how he was going to patch up his eldest son with Sam plastered to his body. This was going to be a neat trick. What he was sure of though was that he would not be separating the two of them any time soon. They needed each other, more than anything else, and it was something he respected and envied since Sammy was born.

TBC

Reviews?


	16. Internal Damage

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"Dean? I need you to stay awake again for a few minutes. Can you look at me, son?"

When Dean felt his father's fingers gently pat against his cheek, he forced his eyes open again and peered blearily up at John.

"That's my boy. You know the drill… How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Uh… Three?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"Sorry, it was an answer, sir."

"Don't be sorry, Dean, but I need to know if your vision has been compromised. Can you see straight?"

"Not sure. Everythin's kinda blurry right now."

John shined a small light into Dean's eyes, making the boy wince and pull back as it heightened his headache once again.

"Easy, kiddo. Don't look directly at it."

When Dean's eyelids started dropping again, John used his other hand to hold them up, one at a time, as he checked for any signs of concussion.

"Are you feeling nauseous? Dizzy?"

"Yeah, a little. And tired."

"Well that's a given. What's twelve times three?"

"Do I _look _like a human calculator?"

"Dean…"

"Alright, alright… thirty-six."

"Our first president?"

"George Washington."

"How do you kill a wendigo?"

Dean smirked. "Set your shirt on fire."

"Wise ass. You've got a minor concussion, but we'll keep an eye on it. You should be fine in that respect. Now where to start with the rest of you…"

"If you'd like my opinion, my hands and wrists are kinda killin' me."

"Good choice. Sammy, get a wet washcloth and start clearin' off some of this dried blood so I can see what I'm workin' with here."

"Yes, sir." Reluctantly, Sam slid out from under his brother's arm and made his way to the bathroom.

"How's your shoulder and back doin'?" John asked, focusing his attention back on Dean once Sam was out of sight.

"S'all right."

"Seriously?"

"Twinges a bit."

"And your head? Is the migraine gone yet?"

"What? My head's still attached? Who'da thunk…"

"Is that a yes?"

"Mostly. Down to a dull roar at least."

"Let's take a look at those wrists." John turned Dean's hands over and then back again to see all the way around his skinny wrists where the rope had bitten through the flesh. "Hey, Sammy? Bring back the ice bucket on your way will ya?"

"Got it!" Sam responded, making his way back into the room with the requested objects in hand.

"You gonna need more help, John?" Bobby called over as he finished taping Mrs. Prescott's cut closed.

"Nah, I'm alright, Bobby," Dean responded before his dad could.

"I guess we'll see in a minute, won't we?" John replied. He filled the ice bucket up with pure alcohol while Sam climbed back up next to his brother and began clearing away the blood on his upper lip from the nosebleed.

"That better, Dean?"

"Yeah, thanks, dude."

Sam beamed, glad he was able to help his brother in return.

"Dean, this is gonna sting a little…" John placed Dean's right hand and wrist into the bucket of alcohol.

Dean threw his head back into the headboard with a loud thunk and a few carefully chosen expletives. He tried to pull his hand back out of what felt to him like acid, but John kept a tight grip around his elbow and forearm, keeping his wrist submerged.

"Breathe through it, Dean. I know it hurts… Just try to focus on somethin' else…"

Bobby slid back onto the bed and placed his palm on Dean's chest. He could feel the frantic beating of his heart. He began rubbing soothing circles over his chest, trying to help calm him.

Sam placed his little hand on his brother's thigh, having slid down the bed a few feet to let Bobby in.

After a full minute and a half, John eased his son's arm back out of the bucket and gently wrapped it in a clean towel.

"Half way there, Dean."

"God damn… Ah!" Dean cried out as his other hand was submerged in the cleansing fluid. He tried to hold himself together in front of his family and friend, but after thirty seconds of pure torture, he shamelessly begged for it to end.

"Shit! Dad, please! Please stop! Crap, it hurts!" Tears were streaming down his cheeks, blurring his vision even more.

Bobby reached his free hand up to wipe them away and pull Dean's head gently towards his shoulder for support. Sam was crying again too.

"Dad, let him go! You're hurting him!"

"Just a little longer… I want to make sure it's thoroughly cleansed."

"Dad, please…" Dean whimpered.

John released his hand and Dean cradled it to his chest. The alcohol in the bucket was now tinged red.

"Let me see it, kiddo."

Dean slowly extended his hand towards his father who took it into his own and began examining it more closely. He saw that there were still pieces of glass embedded in his boy's skin.

"Sam, get the pliers." While Sam was searching through the first aid kit, John moved further down the bed to get a look at Dean's cut up feet. He knew he was going to have to give them the same alcohol treatment, but couldn't find it in his heart to do it just yet. On the other hand, he knew the longer he waited, the better chance Dean would get an infection. It was basically a lose-lose situation.

Bobby realized John's dilemma at once. "Why don't you let me handle that, John, and you stay up here with yer kid? He needs you more right now."

"Well, as long as you're offerin'…" John moved back up the bed and slid in behind Dean's back, wrapping one arm around his midriff and stroking his hair with the other. "How're you holdin' up, kiddo?"

"I've had worse…" Dean replied softly, craning his neck to send his father a very forced smile that John appreciated non-the-less.

Knowing it was true and not receiving any comfort from the words, John just held his boy closer, wishing there was something more he could do.

Once Sam located the pliers, he tentatively handed them over to their father with an apologetic look at his brother.

"Dean, you've gotta hold as still as possible for me, okay?"

Dean swallowed hard, but nodded his agreement. After all, pain was just another part of his job.

It was a slow, painstaking process, but about twenty minutes later, John had pulled out the shattered pieces of glass from his son's hands. Dean had taken control of his mind and hid himself away from the pain like he was taught years ago.

The whole room was silent as John worked, not wanting to break Dean's Zen-like concentration. However, he was brought back with a jolt when Bobby placed his torn right foot and ankle into the burning liquid.

John tightened his grip to a vice-like strength around his son's chest and arms and Sammy sat on his knees to prevent him from tearing his leg out of Bobby's grasp.

"Don't hold it in, son. Let it out if it helps," Bobby advised, watching the second hand of his watch which seemed to be going much slower than usual.

Dean blushed profusely when he realized the pitiful whimpers were coming from his own mouth. _Some soldier…_

"One more to go, Dean. It's almost over…" Bobby switched the boy's leg out for the other. John kissed the top of his son's sweat-slicked hair before whispering in his ear.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. Just hang in there for me, okay? You're doin' a great job…"

Dean's heart swelled at his father's praise, something that he earned constantly but rarely received. Sure, John loved his boys more than anything, but he was more of a 'tough love' kind of guy. He had to be if he wanted his family to survive the supernatural war.

But on the other hand, desperate times called for desperate measures, and when his boy was battling this much pain and still doing everything he could to be his father's little soldier, John knew his encouragement was needed.

When it was finally over and Bobby carefully slid Dean's foot out of the bucket, Dean's strength was hanging by a thread. His body went limp in his father's arms and his eye lids were fluttering again as he fought to remain conscious.

"It's okay, Dean. You can let go now," John whispered as he gently slid out from behind his son and lowered Dean down to the mattress. He brushed a hand through his son's matted hair, making it stick up like it always did when the boy first woke up in the morning. John smiled fondly down at his son and patted him gently on the shoulder as Dean finally surrendered and his eyes slid shut.

Bobby and John worked quickly to remove the glass shards from his feet and wrap all his injuries to prevent infection. John rolled him slightly onto his right side to check his shoulder wound which thankfully hadn't been reopened. He gasped as he saw the deep purple bruising all down his back, even worse than Sammy's had been.

"Sammy? Is all this bruising from hitting the mirror?"

Sam moved around the bed and glanced at his brother's back and winced. "Uh… Probably not. He had a bit of a showdown with the demon and he got thrown around a lot. I think he hit the foot of the bed on one toss."

"Shit. That probably didn't feel too good. What brought the fight on? Why did the demon target your brother?"

"He… well… Dean was being Dean. He egged it on until it released him from his bed, which I'm guessing was Dean's plan, but then it said some horrible stuff to him and he attacked it."

"Dean _attacked_ it? What the hell was he thinking?"

"He wasn't. The demon really messed with his head. It told him if he got within striking distance of it, it would let the rest of us go and never come back."

"And Dean fell for that? I've gotta have a talk with that boy…"

"Yeah, dad, you _do_! But not about that! Between you and the demon, it's a wonder he can even think straight anymore!" Sam's anger was taking over now that Dean was asleep and relatively safe.

"What's that supposed to mean, Sam?" John felt his anger starting to rise as well.

"It means you don't support him enough! He has absolutely no sense of self-worth! It told him you only needed him for bait, that he was worthless! And he accepted it, dad! He was willing to give up his own life to save us, and that's all on you!"

"How is that _my _fault?!" John yelled back, neither Winchester caring about waking Dean at this point. The Prescotts stared open-mouthed at the two men, and Bobby glared openly at John.

"You two wanna take this outside so the poor kid can get some rest? Jesus, he's not even out for ten minutes and you guys are at each other's throats! He's too weak right now to have to worry about playing peacekeeper for you two!"

"You're right. We'll discuss this later, Sam." John's voice held a strong sense of finality to it, but Sam wasn't ready to relent just yet.

"But, dad…!"

"I said not now, Sam!"

"Yes, sir," Sam mumbled, turning his back on John and snuggling up on the bed next to his brother. Bobby pulled the sheets over both boys, giving Dean a bit more dignity since he was still only clad in his boxers.

John sighed. Now that everyone's wounds had been attended to, it was time to start focusing on the internal wounds left behind by the demon's game. Those would take much longer to heal.

TBC

Wow! Thanks for all the reviews so far! You guys are all awesome!! Glad you're enjoying it and there are plenty of angsty chick-flick moments to come! That was just a taste of the fighting and defending of the Winchesters.

Oh! I've been meaning to ask… if it's not too personal, I was wondering if you guys would mind letting me know what countries you're all from just so I can see how wide-spread this story is? I know there are a few French fans out there, and that's awesome! I'm from the U.S., so if you wouldn't mind mentioning it in your next review, I'd love to know! If not, a regular review is just as appreciated! Thanks again!!


	17. More Meddling

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"John, can I talk to you alone for a sec?" The eldest Winchester didn't like the tone in his friend's voice. He glanced back at his children, afraid to let them out of his sight again.

"I'll keep an eye on them, Mr. Winchester," Mr. Prescott offered. "I'm a doctor."

"You're a doctor? Why the hell didn't you speak up before when I was pullin' glass outta my kid?!"

"I'm sorry. It just… You seemed like you knew what you were doing and I didn't want to interfere. I can check them when they wake up if you'd like."

"Fine. If anything happens, give me a shout. Bobby and I'll be just outside."

With that, Bobby followed John out into the darkness, the only light being from the weak motel signs and seeping through their curtains.

"What's up, Bobby?"

"What the hell was the demon talkin' about? I thought it was only after Sam. What's with this whole 'Dean bein' the leader' thing?"

The eldest Winchester sighed deeply, then turned to face his friend. "It wants Sammy to be its soldier, but it wants Dean to lead the army."

"How long have you known about this?"

"Couple years now."

"And you never warned them that the demon was comin' to collect?"

"Not while I'm around to protect them. They didn't need to know. If I could make them forget, I would."

"To what end? You think they wouldn't find out on their own eventually? And what if somethin' happens to you? Who's gonna protect them if they don't even know what they're up against?"

"When the time comes, I'll tell Dean the truth, at least about Sammy. He'll be able to handle it and act accordingly."

"Damn it, John! They're not soldiers! They're your sons! What are you gonna tell him exactly? That he might have to kill his little brother if the demon wins?"

"Only if it's necessary. I plan on bein' around for quite some time though. Let's not worry about it now."

Bobby grunted his disapproval. "Do you think it's gonna come after the boys again?"

"I'd bet my life on it."

"I was afraid of that. So when are you gonna talk to Dean about what he said?"

"What he said when?"

"You _know _when, John! With the demon! Weren't you listenin'?"

John looked unfazed. "Dean was only tellin' the damn thing what it wanted to hear. Nothin' more."

"You really believe that? You don't think it was what _you _needed to hear?"

Now John was letting the anger consume him. His short temper was already burning on a short fuse. He immediately became defensive. "What is this, Bobby? You got somethin' to say to me?"

"I think everythin's already _been_ said, don't you?"

"No, I don't. If you've got somethin' to say, say it!"

"Yer boy's head is so messed up that he doesn't even care if he signs his soul over to the damn demon! He doesn't give a shit about himself, and it's gonna get him killed if you don't talk some sense into that boy!"

"Dean'll be fine, and so will Sam. They've had a few tough days. Now that we're back together again, it'll all pass."

"You can't seriously be that thick, John. I refuse to believe it. You and your _trainin' _are clearly part of the problem! Just give the boy a pat on the back once in a while! It won't kill ya! Give him a reason ta be proud of himself… Hell, a reason ta live!"

"He's got a reason to live! He's got Sammy, and he's got his job of saving as many innocents as he possibly can. What more does he need?"

"HE NEEDS HIS GOD DAMN FATHER! Didn't you hear his 'greatest desire'? Ta have his _father _love him and need him back? Did any of this sink in at all, or was I the only one there?"

"He's gonna do just fine, Bobby. Don't tell me how to raise my kids."

"Well someone should. I'm gonna go get a drink. Call my cell if anythin' happens." Bobby stormed off to his truck, never looking back.

John bottled his rage back up again before heading inside to find Mr. Prescott gently checking his sons' vitals while they slept.

Both Prescotts looked up as he entered. Mrs. Prescott quirked an eyebrow at him. "Where did your friend go?"

"Out. He'll be back later. How're my boys doin'?" he requested of Roger.

"They seem to be doing just fine," Roger responded.

Knowing the boys were out of the woods but still feeling responsible for them, Mrs. Prescott chose this moment to speak her mind.

"Stolen vehicles, credit card fraud, fake IDs, constant danger and violence... Not exactly the life for a child, let alone two."

John did his best to keep his anger under control, but his exhaustion and hatred towards the system for taking his kids in the first place were making that very difficult.

"And what would _you _have me do? We never chose this life! It chose us!"

"I won't pretend to understand what you do for a living, Mr. Winchester, but do you really think it is in the boys' best interest to stay with a father who hunts evil for a living?"

John sighed loudly, truly thinking over his options. "Ma'am, believe me, I wish there was another way, but my family has been a supernatural target for years and there is nothin' I can do about it. As you just saw, even if they were in someone else's care, they're still susceptible to attacks. We do what we have to in order to stay alive, and to save others while we're at it. I protect my boys the best I can. If you know anyone who could do a better job, let me know."

She nodded passively, consenting to his argument. "On a different note, I'm grateful to you for saving my husband."

Now it was John's turn to nod back. "You're welcome. Thank you for not letting my boys get lost in the system. I don't know what I would've… Anyways… Just, thanks."

Dean let out a small whimper in his sleep as he shifted unconsciously making Sam wrap his arms tighter around his brother in a protective hug. John smiled fondly down at his two boys and their love for each other. He truly was a blessed father. If only there was a way to take away their pain, both mental and physical. Then he was struck with a thought.

"I'll be right back. I need to make a phone call." John slid quietly back outside and after making sure no one was within ear-shot, he pulled out his cell and held down the number three until the speed dial kicked in. Half a ring later and the other end answered.

"John, please think twice before you ask me what you're gonna ask…"

"Missouri, I've already made up my mind and I'm sure you already know that."

"A girl can have hope. I know your boys are hurtin' but there's gotta be a better way."

"There isn't. Will you help me or not?"

"This isn't the answer, hunny. It won't solve a thing. There's a chance you could cause even more damage to those poor boys…"

"Missouri! I need you on my side right now. I know it's useless to them for physical pain, but at least I can help them with the emotional and mental scars."

"Jonathan Winchester, you could just as easily help them with those problems by talkin' to them. Just cause you keep sweepin' things under a rug doesn't mean they automatically disappear! Now, are you absolutely _sure _you want to do this? You've already done it to Dean once… Do you really believe it helped?"

"Just tell me how to make it and I'll do it myself. There's no need for you to come out here this late at night."

"Very well then. You got a pen?"

Meanwhile, back in the room a shooting pain raced up Dean's bruised back, jolting both him and his brother awake.

"Ah! Shit… Sorry, Sammy."

"You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, little man."

"What happened?"

"It was nothin'. Go back to sleep."

Sam turned defiantly to Roger. "Mr. Prescott, could you make sure my brother's okay?"

"I said I was fine, Sam! Let it be."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Ignore him when he says he's fine. What he actually means is he's in a lot of pain. If he won't tell you where it hurts, you've got my permission to figure it out."

Roger chuckled at Sam's antics and Dean's current expression of loathing.

"You heard the man, Dean. So are you going to fess up or do I have to figure it out myself?"

"It can wait till my dad gets back… By the way, where'd they go?" Dean glanced around looking confused having just realized his father and Bobby were missing.

"Your friend, Bobby, went out for a while, and your dad is outside making a call."

"A call? To who?"

"Not my place to ask, and your deflection isn't going to work. So how do you want this to go down?" He stood up from where he was seated at his wife's side on their bed and made his way over to the boys.

Dean tried to cross his arms over his chest in defiance but gasped at the movement, instantly giving away the area that was causing him pain. He blushed slightly, both in anger at himself and embarrassment that he made it so easy for the doctor.

"Guess that about sums it up. Come on, sit up for me if you can."

Dean made several painful attempts to do as he was asked but the deep bruising along his spine decided it wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"Okay, okay! Easy! Don't force it. I'll help you roll onto your stomach instead."

With Mr. Prescott's and Sam's help, the two of them managed to get Dean flat on his stomach with minimal pain in the process.

"Jeez, kid…" Roger breathed out as he saw the extent of the damage done to Dean's back.

Dean almost let slip that he had had worse before but decided it wouldn't help their situation any and kept his mouth shut. He was soon gritting his teeth as the doc began pressing against the bruising to determine the extent of the injury.

Starting at the base of Dean's skull, the doc felt for any spinal injury, broken or cracked ribs, and internal injuries that may have been overlooked.

"Does it hurt when I press here?"

"No."

Mr. Prescott moved his hands to the middle of Dean's back and followed the curve of each rib to make sure they were all intact.

"Okay, here?"

"Not really."

He moved down again to the boy's lower back.

"Here?"

"Ow! Jeez!" Dean tried to push up from the mattress but it didn't take much strength from Mr. Prescott to hold him down.

"Sorry about that, Dean. You've got a lot of deep bruising here but I needed to see if you broke anything."

Dean just groaned into his pillow now that the pain was back down to a dull ache.

"'s fine. Just don't ever do it again, okay?"

The doc chuckled. "You got it."

He finished following Dean's spine until he reached the waistline of his boxers.

"You lucked out, kid. Doesn't look like you broke anything, but you're gonna be sore and stiff for a while. Sam, could you get us some ice and a towel?"

"Yes, sir."

Dean rolled his eyes. Leave it to his brother to follow a stranger's words without question to but defy their own father at every chance he got. Kids these days… No respect for their parents.

"Can I roll back over now?"

"I need you to stay on your stomach for as long as possible. I'm going to put some ice on the worst of the bruising to see if we can help the swelling at all."

Dean shivered just at the thought. He was already cold and just wanted his blankets and some peace and quiet.

"Soon, Dean. I'll leave you in peace again soon. Just hang on."

TBC

Reviews? Sorry I'm posting slower again but I'm back at school! I'll try my best to post as often as I can though! Shout out to everyone who reviewed from all over the world! I luv u guys! I've gotten responses from France, Canada, the U.S., Sweden, Finland, England, Australia, Singapore, and more! Amazing!! Thanks for sticking with me this long, and I'll try not to disappoint!!


	18. Struck Down

"Are you tellin' me you'd rather delete yer kids' memories rather than deal with them

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

Sam returned a moment later with a bucket of ice with which Mr. Prescott made a large ice pack. He draped a towel over Dean's lower back, covering most of the bruising, then poured the ice gently on top of it. Dean hissed at the cold as the ice began to melt and seep through the towel and onto his bare back. It didn't take long before he was covered in goosebumps.

"Ah… shit… That burns!" Dean groaned, shifting slightly as though to escape the biting cold.

"I know it does, kiddo, but trust me, the bruising will feel a lot better when it's over."

"I was dealing with it just fine before," he huffed back defiantly, though if he were honest with himself, his back was already feeling a lot better now that the bruises were numb.

"You're a tough kid, you know that?" Mr. Prescott smiled at the boy who offered up a weak smirk in return.

"Gotta be. How long do I have to stay like this?"

"Ten minutes should do it."

"Fan-freakin-tastic." Dean buried his head in his pillow.

Sam sat back down next to his brother and ran his small hand soothingly up and down Dean's arm in comfort.

"Feeling any better, Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean mumbled something into his pillow that Mr. Prescott couldn't decipher but made Sam chuckle.

Back outside, John tucked his new grocery list from Missouri into his pocket.

"Thanks, Missouri. I owe you one."

"You owe me more than that, John Winchester. Now get back to your boys, and rub some thyme and tea tree oil mixed with olive oil on your boys' bruising. It'll help with the pain and healing."

"How did you… Oh, never mind. Thanks again, from me _and_ the boys."

"Take care of them, John. They're the only boys you have."

"I know that, and I will. I'll keep you updated. Goodbye."

With a newfound determination, John strode back into the room. "Mrs. Prescott, would you mind running to the store for me so I can stay with my boys? I only need a few things, and I'll give you the money. There's one right down the street."

"Sure, it's no problem. What can I get for you?"

"Here's a list. If you have any questions, I wrote my cell number at the bottom."

She scanned her eyes down the small piece of paper. "What's all this for?"

"It'll help the boys heal faster."

With a quick kiss to her husband, she was out the door. John turned to the doc but before he could ask, Roger was giving him an update.

"Dean woke with pain in his back. I'm trying to numb it as we speak. The ice should help with the swelling as well."

"Thanks, but I've got another remedy on the way. I'll take over again when your wife gets back."

"Sounds fair to me. I think it's been ten minutes. Let's take a look…"

He drew all the corners of the soaked cloth together and draped it into the ice bucket, trying not to make a mess everywhere. The burning of the ice had turned Dean's normally pale skin a slight shade of pink and the bruising seemed darker and irritated, but Mr. Prescott insisted that it was proof that it was healing.

He began prodding at Dean's cold skin and this time did not elicit a grunt or moan of pain. He continued his exam, checking the stitches in Dean's back and the gouge in his shoulder. Nothing seemed to be infected which was a huge relief.

"Well, that'll do for now I guess. And how are you doing, Sam? Anything warrant me taking a look at?"

Not wanting the same ice treatment his brother just went through, Sam shook his head. After all, the pain had lessened considerably since it had happened. Inside, he was screaming with rage from having seen his brother in so much pain and having just found out that his father had caused him pain once as well. As everything began to slow back down his mind returned to the conversations between his family members and the demon.

"Dad, I need to talk to you. Now."

Dean lifted his head from the pillow, hearing his brother's tone of voice and knowing what was coming.

"Sam, don't…"

"Dean, I need to know."

John interrupted, thoroughly confused by Sam's renewed anger towards him.

"Need to know what, Sam?"

"You know, dad, you only heard the end of the demon's game. The first half was much worse. It mentioned how Dean wanted to be a fireman, and because of _you _and your obsession, he'll never get the chance. He talked about how Dean has given up everything for this family which is true, how he wasn't able to protect me which is a total lie, how it was Dean's fault mom is dead, how you never gave a shit about your eldest son, oh, and my all time favorite, how you hit him! How could you do that, dad? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"He disobeyed a direct order!"

"If you had done that to me, I'd _never_ have forgiven you, but Dean was still defending you, swearing that it wasn't child abuse and that he deserved it!"

"That's enough, Sam!" Dean shouted, struggling to get out of bed and in between his brother and father.

"No, Dean! It's not _nearly _enough! The way he treated you when you were growing up… Making you become an adult at the age of _four_, and turning you into his soldier…"

"Sam! I said that's enough!" Dean pushed away the stiffness and pain in his body to give off a foreboding presence, stuck directly in the middle of the family feud as always. Mr. Prescott was afraid to interfere in a family dispute that might need to be discussed, but when his 'patient' was involved, he felt the need to speak up. He took a few steps towards the quarreling Winchesters.

"Mr. Winchester… Please calm down…"

John didn't seem to hear him and barreled on.

"I told you we'd talk about this later, Sam! Now is _not _the time!"

Sam ignored the fact that his brother was in the way and shouted around him at his father, the floodgates finally open.

"I think it's a perfect time! The demon said you were too obsessed to realize that the damn thing was causing Dean's migraines, but you knew all along didn't you? You risked your own son's life to pursue a shadow you'd never catch! And all for revenge! Don't you care about Dean at all?!"

John snapped at that and threw his eldest son out of the way so he could teach Sam some manners, but his advance was brought to a sharp halt when Dean cried out in pain, having hit the floor hard with his bruised back. Mr. Prescott had thrown out a hand as though to catch Dean but was still halfway across the room and could only watch in horror as the boy seemed to fall in slow motion.

"Oh my god… Dean, I'm so sorry, son…" John reached out to help Dean to his feet, but Sam pushed his hand away and kneeled next to his brother, glaring up at their father.

"Go away!"

"Sam, I…"

Before he could put the words together, the front door swung open and Bobby entered. He froze in the doorway at the sight before him. Dean was on the ground being protected by Sam from their father. The stricken look in the boy's eyes made it obvious that some bad shit had just gone down.

"John? Outside, now!" he demanded.

Overwhelmed with guilt, John didn't fight the order and shuffled quietly from the room. Bobby went over to the boys as the door closed behind him.

"Mr. Prescott, could you give us a few minutes?" Roger nodded, still in a slight state of shock, and closed himself in the bathroom, feeling as though he were going to throw up.

"What the hell happened? You boys alright?"

"He did it again, Bobby! He hit Dean!" Sam cried, tears of anger and fear running down his cheeks.

"He did NOT, Sam! He just pushed me a little and I tripped!" Dean protested, always one to defend his father's actions.

"Dean, he hurt you out of anger!"

"Whoa, hang on there. What's this _again _business?" Bobby interrupted.

"Dad hit Dean for letting me get attacked a few years back. It wasn't his fault! He was just a kid!"

Bobby looked furious.

"Is that true, Dean?"

"It was a Striga, Bobby. It could have killed Sam, and I did nothing to stop it."

"So John struck you? Is that what I'm hearin'?"

"Well… yeah…"

"Damn it, John…" Bobby whispered under his breath. He knew how fragile Dean's psyche was, and a physical blow from his hero would be the biggest emotional blow the kid could take.

"I deserved it, Bobby! What if it _had _gotten Sa…"

"Dean, you listen and you listen good. Even if it had gotten yer brother, it would not have been your fault. You boys should not have been left alone at that age, especially when yer father knew what was out there. We all know you wouldn't let Sam get hurt on purpose or if you could prevent it. Now… Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Bobby. Just jolted the bruising a little."

"Let's get you back in bed. Sam, you alright?"

"Yeah, Bobby. I'm okay. It was _Dean_ that hit the ground."

"Sam…" Dean warned, allowing Bobby to pull him back on to his feet and guide him to the bed by his elbow.

"You boys stay here. I'll be right back." Bobby stomped off to the door. He and John needed to have a little talk.

TBC

Reviews? Please? And I've gotta say congratulations to the newly engaged Jared and Sandra! I thought I'd update today to help ease the pain for all those broken hearted girls reading this!!


	19. No Sugar Coating

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pump yer ass fulla rocksalt right now," Bobby demanded the second the door slammed shut behind him. He was taken aback as John raised his eyes to him, tears leaking silently down his face.

"I don't have any, Bobby. Hell, I'll go get you a gun myself if you want."

Bobby's anger abated slightly as he saw how much John regretted his actions.

"What the hell happened in there, John?"

"I don't know. Sam and I got into another shouting match about how much I suck at being a parent, which is now quite obvious to me, and I just snapped. I couldn't control myself, and Dean _always _put himself in the middle and he should never have had to do that. God… I just hurt my own kid, Bobby."

"Yeah, John. You did. I ain't gonna sugar coat it for ya. I know Sam can be belligerent at times but yer supposed to be the bigger man. Yer the adult. Don't let him rile ya up! And for god's sake, do _not_ take it out on yer eldest!"

"I swear to you it'll never happen again."

"Bet you said that last time too, huh?"

John stared at the ground, looking defeated. "I was just so scared that time, Bobby. I thought my baby boy was going to die right in front of my eyes, and I took it out on the wrong person. I know it was my fault and that I should have been there to protect them instead of out hunting, but Sam was right. I _am _obsessed. Killin' this bastard is the only thing I can think about."

"And look where it's gotten ya. I'm not sayin' don't hate the thing for killin' yer wife. Lord knows I would. But you can't keep focusin' on what you've lost. You need to remember what you still have and stop takin' it for granted, cause those boys are the best things that have ever happened to you."

"You're right. I know you are. And I'm going to work on that, I swear. I've put my kids through hell, and that's what I've been tryin' to protect them from all these years. Kind of ironic don't ya think?"

"Extremely."

"I've got a plan though, Bobby. I'm gonna try to make this all better again."

"Yeah? And how's that?"

Mrs. Prescott chose that very moment to come jogging up to them, bags in hand. Bobby looked perplexed.

"What's all this?"

"I got what you asked for, Mr. Winchester. It's all here."

Bobby shot a confused but curious look at his friend before taking a few of the bags from her and carrying them inside. John took the rest. As the ingredients were laid out on the table, Bobby began putting two and two together. He growled in anger.

"What the hell is this, John? Yer not gonna…"

"I don't have a choice, Bobby. I gave Missouri a call and she gave me the recipe."

"Yer gonna make that drink again, aren't you?"

John just nodded as he began putting the ingredients together in the motel's blender. Bobby was so angry, he was turning purple.

"Are you tellin' me you'd prefer to erase yer kids' memories rather than deal with them? It's not gonna change how that boy feels, John! You need to talk to 'im! Not sweep it all under the rug!"

"Keep your voice down, damn it! I'm no good at this stuff, Bobby! You _know_ that! Mary was always the emotional one. I'm way outta my league here."

"Got that right. I'm not gonna play a part in this, John. If yer gonna go through with it, yer gonna do it alone."

"Fine, then just help them out physically. Take the herbs and the olive oil. They're a remedy for…"

"Bruisin'. I'm not an idiot, John. That, I can do."

In the bedroom, Sam was huddled under his brother's arm again. This was one of the few places he truly felt safe. The other place, being in his father's care, had just been shattered to pieces. He no longer felt safe around his father. But Dean… Dean he could always trust. Now if only his brother believed that himself. Sam twisted his neck to look up at his brother.

"Do you really think you're a bad person, Dean?"

Dean was a little thrown off by his brother's seemingly random question, but soon figured out where it was coming from. That damn demon had certainly stirred up a lot of trouble during his little visit.

"Course not, Sammy. The demon was just tryin' to prove a point." Dean forced a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What point?"

"That he actually _is _dumber than he looks. Don't let anything he said or made me say bother you, kiddo. It was all an act."

Sam studied his brother to determine if he was telling the truth or not. He knew Dean was lying, but he was willing to let him think otherwise. At least for now. "Okay, Dean. I'm glad to hear it."

Dean chuckled at his brother's grown-up answer, then reached over and ruffled his hair just to hear him complain and he laughed as Sam tried to squirm out from under his headlock.

Back in the kitchen, Bobby took the ingredients and mixed them together in a medium bowl. Pulling himself together, he took the bowl into the bedroom area where the boys were still huddled together on the bed, acting like boys and laughing lightheartedly. It warmed his heart, but at the same time crushed him as he knew what John had planned for them. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Let's see that bruisin' again, Dean. You too, Sammy. Take that shirt off and lay down next to yer brother."

They both did as they were told, completely trusting of Bobby.

"This may feel a little cold, but after havin' ice on yer back, Dean, I doubt it'll make much difference."

Dean just scoffed.

Bobby dipped his fingers into the mixture and began rubbing it gently over the bruising on Dean's back and shoulder, then moved over to Sam's back. As he finished, it was almost comical how still the boys were lying. If he didn't know better, he'd think they were asleep. But he knew they were just waiting for him to finish, so to lighten the atmosphere again, he poked Sam in the ribs and got the reaction he'd been hoping for. Sam giggled.

"Bobby! That tickles!"

Then he went in to full attack mode: two-handed-tickling. Sam didn't stand a chance. Dean laughed a genuine laugh and Sam almost fell off the bed as he scrabbled around, trying to escape from Bobby.

"Hey, Dean, take over for me. I'm gonna check on yer dad again."

Bobby paused in the doorway, taking in the scene of the boys acting like normal children for a change; Dean, being the big brother and tormenting his little brother who just couldn't seem to stop laughing.

Then he turned his back to them and walked into the kitchen were John was putting the last few ingredients together.

"Are you even gonna tell them yer messin' with their minds?"

John paused to look over at his friend.

"Course not, Bobby. They wouldn't drink it if I did."

"Can you blame them?"

"I know you hate me for this but you've gotta believe it's in their best interest. All that stuff about the demon recruiting Sam for his army and Dean for its general… They were never supposed to know that. It'll haunt them until the thing is dead and I honestly don't know if I have the means to kill that son of a bitch yet."

"I understand how you feel, John, but messin' with someone's memory can be a tricky thing. You could cause more damage than harm at this point."

"Missouri was confident they'll forget everything that happened after the wendigo hunt. I can blame their injuries on that if they ask."

"And what about the Prescotts? You gonna erase their minds too?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'd like them to forget all of this, including the charges against me, but what will the others think when she goes back to the school? I mean, they all think she's been watching over the boys all this time. What're they gonna say when she doesn't even remember Sam being injured?"

"Got a point there. If you want my opinion, what happened, happened. The best thing to do now is move on and let them deal with the new information they all got on their own time and at their own pace. It won't do to leave some rememberin' and others at a complete loss."

"I hear ya, but this needs to be done. At least to my boys. They just aren't old enough yet to have to deal with all this shit."

"If that's how you feel, I'm gonna go get another drink. I can't sit there and watch you do it to them."

"That's fine. It won't take long. But I want to talk to Dean first."

"First intelligent thing you've said all day. Call me when it's done."

"Hey, Bobby? Think you could bring the Prescotts home on your way? Let me just talk to them first."

"I'll wait outside."

With that, Bobby was gone once again.

John poked his head into the bedroom and called the Prescotts into the kitchen. He could hear his boys laughing hysterically and it brought a sense of normalcy back into his life. It was amazing how a simple sound could be so calming.

The Prescotts were chuckling at his boys as they followed him back into the kitchen. They had been watching the tickle-fest from their own bed.

"This is probably going to sound bizarre, but I've got a friend who specializes in herbs and their affects, and I've managed to make a solution that can erase a person's memory to a designated time. Now I want you two to decide for yourselves if you want to remember everything that has happened, or to return to blissful ignorance of the supernatural world."

The Prescotts stared dumbfounded at him, clearly at a loss for words. Mr. Prescott spoke up first.

"Y-You're serious?" Roger stuttered.

John nodded.

"I… I dunno what to say. Personally, I think I'd rather remember. After all, 'blissful ignorance' as you say does not make the supernatural non-existent. I'd like to use this knowledge for the better. I'm sure that if tonight was any comparison that there are a lot of injuries that come with fighting these creatures. Maybe I could be a doctor for your kind of people, cause I'm guessing you tend to end up with injuries that are a bit difficult to explain to medical staff."

"You're right there. We'd be glad to have you aboard, doc. The more help we get, the better. What about you, Mrs. Prescott?"

"I agree. I'd like to help you and your family in thanks for saving my husband and me. I will go before the board tomorrow and explain to them that I do not think you should be persecuted anymore for child abuse. You clearly love your boys, and you weren't responsible for their injuries. I will inform them that it truly was an accident and I even saw the broken table."

"You'd lie for me?" John smirked.

"Only cause you'd die for me. I think it's only fair."

"Well thank you both for accepting all this, and Bobby's waitin' outside to bring you home. We'll take care of things from here."

"Good luck to you and your family."

"Same to you."

John shook hands with both of them and held the door open as they went outside to meet up with Bobby. Now, to business… and profuse apologies.

TBC

Reviews? How am I doing so far? Is this getting too far off topic or are all the branching plot points okay? Finally… the chick flick moment you have all been waiting for… the John and Dean conversation! It will take up the majority of the next chapter, so buckle up!


	20. Please Forgive Me

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

Dean glanced up from tickling his brother when he felt a presence by the door. His laughing stopped instantly at his father's somber expression. Sam rolled over and stopped laughing as well. The silence was unbearable. John forced a cough to clear away the lump in his throat.

"Hey, Sammy? Could you give me and Dean a minute, kiddo?"

"Promise you won't hurt him," Sam demanded, making John's heart constrict.

"I'll swear on anything you want. I will _never_ hurt you or your brother again."

Sam considered the proposal, then nodded and rose from the bed, heading out into the kitchen area. John took a deep breath, then turned back to Dean.

"Son… I…"

"It's okay, dad. I know you didn't mean it."

John took a few more steps into the room, but kept distance between himself and his son.

"It's no where near okay, Dean. You didn't deserve that, and you didn't deserve it the first time either. I need you to understand that."

"Sure, dad."

"You know you've never failed this family, right?"

Dean's eyes dropped to the ground instantly.

"Dad… about what I said when you and Bobby showed up… I don't really think you're an obsessed son-of-a…"

"Dean, it's okay. You were right. I am obsessed, and I'm sorry for the pain it has caused you and your brother. I never meant for things to get so out of hand."

"I know that. Like I said, it's okay. It's not like you asked for this kind of life either. We're all in the same boat, dad. None of us are handling it very well."

"_You_ are. You always have been. I don't know how you do it, but I wish we were all as strong as you. I'm a lucky father to have you by my side."

"Come on, you don't need me, dad…"

"I do need you, Dean. You're the one holding this family together. Not me. And I've always loved you and your brother, and I always will. Never forget that, okay?"

Dean swallowed hard and nodded silently, feeling slightly awkward at the chick flick moment his father had started. John sat down next to Dean's hip, not ready to give up on their heart-to-heart just yet.

"On another note, since when did you stop believing in angels? I always thought you did."

"I pretended to for a long time, but only for Sammy's sake. He insisted they were real and that mom was one of them. I didn't want to dash his dreams."

"Well that's very considerate of you, kiddo. I'm sorry you couldn't stay innocent longer. I never meant to take away your childhood."

"There was nothing wrong with my childhood, dad. I've got no complaints. I mean, sure it wasn't always easy, but other kids have had worse. Who am I to bitch?"

"You know if I could take it all away and still keep you and your brother safe, I would?"

"Yeah, dad. I know." Dean offered up a weak smile and John patted him affectionately on the shoulder. A lone tear fell from John's eye, mourning the loss of his son's innocence, and Dean was blinking more than usual to hold his own tears in. His dad quickly wiped away the tear and sniffed loudly. An awkward silence filled the room, so John decided to lighten the atmosphere a bit.

"So… about the virgin thing?"

"Oh, come on, dad…" Dean groaned as he blushed profusely.

"Seriously, dude. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why?! Because it's freakin' embarrassing, that's why!"

"Were you really that bad?" John teased, making Dean scowl.

"I didn't hear _her_ complainin' any if that's what you mean."

"You know, you don't have to rush these things. There'll be plenty of time for it in the future."

"Yeah, sure. When we're not hunting the supernatural 24/7…" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Please tell me you at least played it safe?"

Dean groaned louder and dropped his head into his hands. "Yeah, dad. I'm not an idiot."

"Glad to hear it. Oh, and it better not have taken place in my car…"

"Gross! God no! We practically live in that thing! She drove us to this place by the water and we had a picnic on the beach. Then one thing led to another…"

"She… drove? How old was this girl exactly?" John arched an eyebrow at his son's smirk.

"Her name was Laura, and she was twenty-one."

"Dean! Don't you think she was a little out of your league?"

"Apparently not. And she certainly knew what she was doing…" Dean's eyes glazed as he replayed that day in his head. John was highly disturbed.

"Okay, okay… That's enough info, thank you. I don't need to hear the details."

Now Dean was having fun making his dad feel uncomfortable. Payback is a bitch. "You sure? Cause damn, the details can really make or break an experience. Did I mention she was into yoga?"

"Dean! Honestly, I don't know where you get it from, but I knew the moment you were born you were gonna be a heartbreaker. Just, try to have _some _self control will ya?"

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"Where is that brother of yours?"

Dean smirked. He knew he had won. His father wouldn't be prying into his private life again anytime soon. Thank god…

"I'm right here!" Sam came bobbing back into the room with a huge smile on his face. Apparently he had heard the entire embarrassing chick flick moment and was glad all the issues had been addressed. Dean reached up and scratched the back of his head feeling uncomfortable. Teasing his dad about his sex life was one thing… but having his little brother overhear it all? Awkward…

"So are we all okay now?" John asked tentatively.

"Course," Dean answered immediately.

Sam pretended to be thinking it over until Dean nudged him hard in the ribs. "Okay, okay! Yeah, we're okay. But you better not break your promise," he warned his father.

"You have my word, Sammy. Now, I gave Missouri a call and she gave me an herbal remedy to help you boys heal faster. I'll go get it. Stay right here."

"Yes, sir."

Once John was out of the room, Sam turned to his brother.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Angels really _do_ exist ya know. You just have to believe."

"I'll take your word for it, little brother."

"I'll prove it to you someday. You'll see."

John paused in the kitchen, staring into his newly made concoction. This was his last chance to back down. After a few seconds of indecision, he let out a slow breath and carried the two cups into the bedroom.

"Here we go. Enjoy."

The boys took their drinks and Sam began to down it. Dean glanced into the cup in disgust and sniffed at it.

Sam made a face as he forced the liquid down his throat. Half way through, he gagged. "Gross! What is in this, dad?"

"Don't you worry about that. Just keep drinkin' till it's gone."

John was too busy watching Sam to notice that Dean hadn't even taken a sip from his cup yet. The eldest Winchester was sure his good little soldier would instantly do as he was told without question, whereas the belligerent Sammy could feed it to the nearest plant when John wasn't looking.

When Sam finished, he handed the empty cup back to his father.

"Good boy. It'll kick in soon. You'll probably feel tired, so don't fight it. You boys need your rest anyways."

Sam's eyelids were already drooping. John stood up and helped his youngest slide under the sheets next to his brother.

"Night, kiddo." He kissed Sam on the forehead, then turned to tuck Dean in only to find him clutching the full cup with both hands. He was staring into it as though he were holding a cup full of poison.

"Go on, son. Drink it up," John prodded.

"Dad, please don't make me do this again."

John was completely nonplused. Dean couldn't possibly…

"Again? You…you remember the day your mom died?"

"Yeah. Have for a long time. It just never seemed like the right time to say anything."

"Jeez, Dean… I didn't know this stuff wore off…"

"I don't know if it did. I just always had this feeling that I was missin' something, like there was a void of emptiness when I knew there should have been somethin' there, so I pursued it until eventually bits and pieces started comin' back."

"What exactly do you remember?" John wasn't sure he wanted an answer, but he felt compelled to ask.

"I remember everything that happened that night from the demon showing up, mom screaming, you shouting for her, then me carrying Sammy out of the house. I even remember what yellow eyes did to Sammy."

"What do you mean, what it did to Sam?" Not even John knew the whole story. By the time he had gotten upstairs, his wife was dying on the ceiling and Sam was crying in his crib, but the demon was gone. He had no idea the thing had even gone near his son.

"It put demon blood in his mouth. I watched from the doorway. I hid when it looked at me with its yellow eyes. Then I came back when you yelled. It infected him, dad."

"You let _me_ worry about that, okay?" It took everything he had not to strike out at the wall as he was consumed by anger yet again.

"Okay."

"You know this drink will give you peace of mind? At least, as long as you don't pursue the truth again…"

"I can't… I don't want to feel that void again, dad. Please don't make me drink it this time."

His son's pleading was tearing at John's heartstrings, but he couldn't bear the thought of dealing with Dean's newly acquired emotional pain. It just wasn't in his genes.

"Dean, I… Please, son. Just do as I say."

Dean dropped his gaze to the floor in defeat. After all, he never disobeyed a direct order.

"Yes, sir."

A tear slipped silently down his cheek as he lifted the cup to his lips, then after a slight hesitation, he grimaced as the foul mixture made its way down his throat. Seconds later, he was handing the empty cup to his father.

"Thank you, Dean." John had never been more sincere in his life.

Only moments later Dean was starting to slump forward. John eased him down to his pillow, kissed him on the forehead, and gently wiped away the rogue tear.

"I'm so sorry, son. Please forgive me," he whispered to his sleeping boy. Now he had yet another notch to add to his guilt tally. His only comfort was that his boys wouldn't remember any of this come morning.

TBC

Review please! How am I doing so far? Was this a powerful enough chapter? Only one left I think to tie up loose ends. If there is anything else you want to see before it's over, feel free to let me know and I'll try to work it all in!


	21. Blissful Ignorance

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared

Summary: John drags his boys on another hunt, but unfortunately this time they weren't prepared. When a caring teacher discovers the boys' injuries, will her meddling help or hurt the family? A wee!chester story.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural but I can't pass up the good material it inspires! Enjoy!!

John sat next to his boys' bed all night, refusing to drift off or leave their side until they woke, mainly to make sure the potion had worked. Bobby had returned later that night, but went immediately into his room to avoid speaking with John. Apparently he was still a little pissed at his friend.

Sam was the first to stir. His small hands moved instantly to his eyes to rub the sleep out of them. Then he gave a tremendous yawn and blinked around the room. It didn't take long for his bleary eyes to land on his father.

"Dad? You okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy. How're you doin'?"

"Sore… What happened?" Sam glanced down at the bandage around his forearm and felt his other injuries protesting any movement he made.

"Don't you remember?" John waited with bated breath.

"The wendigo… It threw me into a tree, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did. But we got it in the end."

"What happened to my arm?"

"It caught you with its claws a bit when it tossed you, that's all."

Sam nodded, taking his father's words for the truth. While nodding his head, his eyes caught sight of his brother, still deep in sleep next to him.

"Is Dean okay?" _Sammy, always the inquisitive one…_

"He will be. He had a rough night."

"His shoulder, right? And the scratch across his back…" Sam trailed off when he saw the bandages around his brother's wrists and hands. "What else happened to him?"

"He dove to the ground pretty hard when he was trying to get to you and cut up his hands. We had to restrain him while we stitched his back up and he cut his wrists struggling."

"Jeez…" Sam winced sympathetically. "Dean hates needles."

"So do you, but with Dean by your side, you handled it pretty well."

"I have stitches too?!" He began looking around his body frantically, trying to pinpoint which place hurt enough to warrant stitches.

"Yes you do. You landed on a sharp stick and it gouged you a bit in the ribs. Bobby helped me with you both."

"Bobby's here?" Sam instantly began looking around the room for their family friend.

"Right here, kid," the familiar gravelly voice responded from just outside the doorway making John smile to himself. His friend might pretend he didn't care or want anything to do with the matter, but when the boys were involved, he was usually never too far away.

"Thanks for taking care of us, Bobby," Sam beamed. He was confused by the pained look in Bobby's eyes. It was as though Bobby thought they had some seriously deadly disease or something. "We're going to be okay, you know…" he added to comfort his friend.

Bobby gave a half smile and nodded. "Got that right. Sleepin' Beauty still out of it?"

As if cued, Dean groaned softly and tossed his head to the side as though trying to wake up but failing miserably. His brow furrowed as the feeling in his body returned.

"Hey, there is life…" John joked and walked to Dean's side to shake his shoulder a little. "You in there, Dean?"

"Huh? Wha?" Dean blinked heavily a few times until he had the strength to keep his eyes open. He lifted his head a few inches to get a glimpse of the dark figure in the doorway.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say yer a bit sore," Bobby stated.

Dean just groaned again and let his head fall heavily back into his pillow.

"We got any pain kills left around here, Bobby?"

"Yeah. In the kitchen I think. I'll get 'em."

"Thanks." The meaningful look John sent him was clear as day to Bobby. That thanks was also a _thanks for not telling them the truth _thanks. He nodded once and left to find the first aid kit, or at least, what was left of it.

In the back of Dean's mind, something was nagging at him but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He didn't think he missed anyone's birthday, and he remembered that they killed the wendigo, so it wasn't neglect or unfinished business that plagued his mind. So what was it?

He couldn't explain the feeling, but he had a sense of déjà vu as though he had experienced it before but he couldn't figure out when or where. All he knew was that he felt empty, almost like there was a void in his mind and soul. He also had the sense of unfounded fear but quickly dismissed it as Bobby strode back into the room.

Once the boys' injuries were checked, cleaned, and re-bandaged, and they were given medication for the pain, Sam's next concern was when they would be able to start school again.

"I've got a new hunt for us, Sammy. I'm sorry, but we've gotta move again," John informed his boys. He tried to prepare himself for how his youngest son was going to react. Sam was never a happy camper when it came to moving on, but John knew this time was unavoidable. They had to get away from anything that could jog the boys' memories.

"You can't do this! Not this close to the end of the year!" Sam shouted in anger.

"We don't have a choice, Sam. Believe me. If we could stay, we would. But we've been here long enough and we need to hit the road again."

"But I've got good friends here! I've got decent teachers! Hell, even _Dean's_ doin' good in school right now!"

"Hey!" Dean yelled back indignantly. Dean was more intelligent than anyone ever gave him credit for, but he found the subjects taught in school were useless to his particular lifestyle, so he didn't even bother trying most of the time. If he had, he could have easily been a straight A student like his brother.

"It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, Sam. But you realize this and you move on. We don't have time for the childish behavior," John scolded.

"You never have time for anything!" Sam slid from the bed and locked himself in the bathroom before Dean could even think of getting in between the two. Bobby gave John a pointed look, clearly berating him for starting a fight so early in the day.

"Remember what I said, Winchester. You touch a hair on either of those boys' heads again in anger and I'll shoot you right then and there," Bobby whispered next to John so only he could hear.

"I told you, it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't."

"Dean, when you're up to it, could you get ready to head out and get your brother out of the bathroom so we can go?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then. I'll pack up the car."

"Okay. Are you comin' with us this time, Bobby?" Dean asked.

"Not yet, kid. I'm gonna keep an ear out to make sure your school doesn't put up a stink about you boys."

"Why? What would they care?"

John shot his friend a warning look.

"Oh! Only cause you boys are disappearin' in the middle of the semester. I mean, the education board tends to frown on that sorta thing. Don't want them causin' trouble for you boys when it comes to your next school."

"Huh. I didn't think it was such a big deal. We switch schools all the time."

"Believe me… I think you boys will be sorely missed. Anyways… You kids take care of yourselves, and each other."

"We'll see you around, Bobby." Dean smiled and Bobby felt as though he was betraying the boy by lying to him and burying the truth. Knowing how well Dean could read expressions and hidden emotions in people, Bobby quickly pulled the boy into a tight hug. Dean didn't resist at all, and after a few seconds he even wrapped his own arms around the older man and returned the embrace.

"You bet. Try to stay outta trouble fer a change, will ya?"

"You know how it goes, man. Trouble always finds _us_."

"Ain't that the truth." Bobby patted Dean gently on the back, avoiding all wounds, then strode out of the room before the kid could see the tears in his eyes.

By the time Dean had talked Sam out of the bathroom, taken his own shower, and gotten dressed, Bobby was already gone. Sam was sulking in the backseat of the Impala and John was checking the rooms one last time for any items they might have left behind. Ten minutes later and they were on the road again to a new hunt in a new town.

Dean couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important, but he knew if he thought about it hard enough, it'd come back to him. He also wasn't stupid enough to believe that all their injuries were caused by the wendigo hunt.

The first few miles passed in complete silence. Then John gave up on attempting a truce with his youngest just yet and pushed in his Twisted Sister tape.

An hour into their trip and John got a phone call from Bobby. Apparently John had been cleared of all charges against him due to some skilled persuasion tactics from a certain teacher of Sam's.

John smiled to himself and glanced in his rearview mirror, taking in his two boys leaning shoulder to shoulder and drifting off again. He knew the affects of the herbs would take another day or so to wear off entirely, but he was relieved that it seemed to have worked.

As his eyes darted between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, he swore to himself that he would fill his boys in on everything they'd need to know, but only when it became absolutely necessary. Until then, he'd allow his boys as much blissful ignorance as he could.

The End

Thanks to everyone for sticking with me all this time and I hope you enjoyed it!

_Really_ short epilogue:

In the deepest shadows of the woods, a terrible evil followed the progress of the Impala as it sped down the highway.

"I'll be seein' you boys real soon, make no mistake of that. Daddy won't _always_ be around to protect you." A pair of yellow eyes flashed in the darkness, and then they were gone.


	22. Author's Note

Ladies and gentlemen, I have finally done it

Ladies and gentlemen, I have finally done it! I have begun the sequel to Meddlesome Fools! I am sooo sorry for the long wait, but I've been practically brain dead when it comes to new ideas. But it's up now and called More Meddling, so check it out if you liked the first one, and if you have any ideas please feel free to feed my muse so I can keep the updates coming!


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